A Warden's Celebration
by Avrielle Rogue
Summary: Kalya Tabris is an impoverished Alienage elf who, after a short and steamy encounter with Alistair, leaves the big city in search of a better life. Not sure she has what it takes to be a Warden, Kalya is a skilled rogue who yearns for a better life than the one taken from her mother. Currently taking place before the world of Origins, but rapidly catching up... (Slightly AU)
1. The Spotted Pig

Kalya hoped the barkeep could hear her stomach growling as she shined away nothingness on one of the spotless tables at the Spotted Pig Tavern. For 12 hours, she had swept floors, changed sheets, and emptied chamber pots at the Denerim manor of one of the lesser-known nobles in the capitol, and after being denied a job because of her race at the Gnawed Noble, the elf had begun waiting tables at the Spotted Pig a few nights prior. Sick of her aching hunger keeping her up all night, Kalya took a chance working late into the night with the hope she could nick a few scraps from customers' plates, or at least get a free drink or five out of the deal and actually fall asleep once in a while.

But scraps and rewarded-booze required customers, of which there had been 5 total in the nights since she'd started. Nolan the barkeep hadn't even asked her to change the linens in the paltry rented room in the back, even though it was supposedly the height of the traveling season. And although the capitol could be as bustling in the evenings as during the day, the Gnawed Noble had plenty of space and spirits for townspeople and tourists alike. There was almost no need for the Spotted Pig, save for the one thing that set it apart from its competitor: a loyal three-piece band (or six, when everyone showed up) whose members liked to blow off steam after a day at the Arl's estate by playing upbeat versions of the dignified songs. _Of course, they get their drinks for free, even without customers,_ thought Kalya. _The barkeep is probably grateful they're here to keep him awake. _

"Oi," Nolan bellowed. Kalya jolted upright, afraid he'd noticed she'd been wiping the same corner of one table for almost 10 minutes now. "Ya think ya can make yourself useful?"

She scanned the small room trying to conceal the bemused expression that sometimes got her into trouble around humans. The only thing worse than an elf was a sarcastic one, it seemed. Her gaze finally fell on the tray of three steins of beer on the bar in front of Nolan, and she could hear his foot tapping impatiently.

"Oh," she stammered, "Sorry, ser. Right away." She nearly tripped on one of the high-legged stools as she rushed to grab the glasses.

"Yeah, no need to apologise. That table will dirty right back up the moment ya turn your back on it."

Kalya placed all three steins under the chairs of each of the musicians - a flautist, drummer, and mandolin player - and they nodded in appreciation without losing tempo. When she returned the tray to the bar, one more large stein sat before her.

"Go on. Have yourself a drink. We're bound to get a rush soon, and skittish elves are bad for business."

He wasn't unkind. In fact, Nolan was infinitely more tolerant than the humans at the manor who barely spoke a word to her unless it was a barked order - and even then, it was barked to the head maid _about_ her as if she weren't standing right there. Nolan treated Kalya like a human, but he _was_ still a businessman, and the past few nights had been anything but lucrative, especially when it came time to split tips with him. Still, it was an extra copper to buy some day-old bread from the elf-hating baker who was surely going to throw it away anyway.

Kalya grasped the stein and tried not to down it all in one gulp, especially on an empty stomach, but, Maker, the dark ale tasted good.

"I was thinking ya might be able to... drum up some business."

"Me?" Kalya squeaked, nearly spitting out a mouthful. Nolan was clearly uncomfortable at the proposition and couldn't keep eye contact.

"Yeah, ya know. Nice girl like you - maybe a guy would look twice and come in for a drink.

"But... I'm..."

"Yeah, I get it. Do you see many other birds around here? Maybe they'll think a bar with elves is exotic. Look, let's not get weird. Will ya do it or what?"

"I-I can try."

"That's all I ask," Nolan said, in an exaggerated bow.

The musicians, who had been quietly vamping in order to eavesdrop, now kicked up a rowdy rendition of "The Royal Courtesan," which Kalya assumed was intended for her. She narrowed her eyes toward them in mock anger, and the drummer gave her a wink of encouragement she slunk out the door.

The Spotted Pig was situated near the Alienage, which was not the safest area of the capitol, but Kalya hoped it was early enough that the true vagrants had yet to begin prowling the streets. She shivered a bit in her robes, unsure how to stand in such a way that looked inviting and warm to potential patrons. Propping the door open with a rock, she hoped the upbeat music emanating out would draw people near. An older couple hobbled past, and she caught a scowl on the man. _Yes_, she thought, _a warm tavern, a night of merriment - who would want such a thing? Didn't want your grumpy old face in here anyway._

Half an hour passed, and Kalya began leaning on the outdoor sign, straightening up whenever anyone came near. Largely, the cobblestone traffic were groups of young elves with no money returning to their homes, but there was the occasional lower noble who gave a reverent nod as they passed by.

She was about to abandon her post and beg for another bit of ale to replenish her resolve, when she heard a joyful commotion rounding the corner. At first, she was worried the rowdy laughter signaled a group that had either already had their fill of spirits and would pass by, or one that would become a potential danger by continuing the evening at such a pace. But when she saw the group of five men in full armor, she recognized them as Grey Wardens and straightened herself up. One or two gave the slightest of stutter steps as they made their way towards her, and Kalya imagined they had left their previous engagement - likely at the crowded Gnawed Noble - to keep up respectable appearances, rather than because the night was over.

Trying out her best "come hither," Kalya locked eyes on one of the Wardens, one with sandy blonde hair and the faintest hint of freckles peppering his face. Drawn deep into her eyes, she found herself frozen, unable to look away, and the Warden sheepishly smiled back at her and dipped his head in greeting. Blinking to regain her composure, she scanned his companions, searching for the right moment to invite them in.

"What have we here?" said the shorter Warden leading the crew, reading the sign propped on the cobblestone. "The Spotted Pig?"

"We're stopping," said the man next to him with a smile. "It's not even midnight. We can't end the celebration yet!"

The sandy-haired man jabbed the only one in their group without a smile in the ribs playfully. "I don't know. Riordan has an early bedtime."

Riordan uncrossed his arms and a faint smile crept across his face. The final Warden, an older gentleman with a dark beard, smiled warmly at his compatriots. "We're celebrating you, Alistair. It's a rare evening to welcome such a skilled warrior into the Wardens, and even rarer we have a moment to celebrate."

"Then the Spotted Pig it is!" Alistair exclaimed. He bowed deeply to Kalya. "My lady, would you do us the honor of showing us into your establishment?"

"Y-yes, ser. Please come this way."


	2. Wine, Woman, and Song

"Have you ever met a Warden, m'lady?" asked the shorter gentleman, earning his own elbow in the ribs from Alistair.

In truth, Kalya had idolized the Grey Wardens since she was a child, for a time even presuming she might join them. An elf can learn a lot about dirty fighting on the merciless streets of the Alienage after dark. But that dream was shattered when Kalya came of age and realized the Grey Wardens had no use for a too-skinny girl who stabs people from the shadows.

"Wesley, let's try to keep it cool this time," Alistair said, stealing another glance at Kalya. "I don't need Duncan physically removing us from _this_ tavern as well." The man next to Wesley snorted. "You're no better, Joran. I'd prefer your dance moves kept to the floor region and leave the table region for setting our beers on."

The bearded gentleman, Duncan, chuckled softly. "I don't think the Gnawed Noble was ready for a rousing game of 'Watch the Warden Drink From the Barrel' this early in the evening." Looking around at the empty tavern, he added, "But I think this place should suit your antics just fine. For tonight."

"Yes, yes, could be a Blight tomorrow," Wesley waved his hand. "For now, we celebrate."

Kalya sat the group at the largest center table and headed to the bar, where Nolan was practically falling over himself to fill up as many steins at once as he'd filled over the last week.

"Offer them the special," he whispered.

"What's the special?"

"I dunno. Make one up. They could stay for hours!"

Kalya could tell how excited this prospect made Nolan. He refilled a stein after a large splash of ale had escaped over the top – something he'd never bothered to do when serving the lone customer wandering in for one drink.

She grasped all five handles in her hands and carefully hoisted them over to the men, careful not to spill another drop. Other elves at the manor where she spent her days had taught her the rules of serving nobles, and though she had never been allowed to actually fill the role herself before tonight, she made sure to serve each of them from the left, placing the drink within arm's reach. She wasn't surprised when they continued their conversations without acknowledging her, but she felt proud just the same. Right as she was about to set the final mug before Alistair, he reached out to take it gently from her grasp, brushing her fingers as he nodded his head and gave a shy smile. Without thinking, she gave him a curtsy and spun on her foot so quickly to hide her rapidly flushing face, she worried she might spin herself in a full circle.

Returning to the far end of the bar, not quite out of sight of the table, Kalya busied herself once again with shining nonexistent smudges off the pristine wood finish. Nolan slid another stein down to her, and she shot a glance to the table, worried one had finished already and she had already let them down.

"That's for ya to cool down, missy," he said. "And swing your hips a little for that fair-haired lad. He's barely looked at his friends since the lot walked in with ya."

"Nolan!" She started to protest, but instead shook the comment from her mind and began downing the icy-cool beverage, which _was_ actually starting to give her a bit more confidence.

Kalya refilled their drinks once more without much incident, and having steeled herself for another adorable nod, this time, she was even able to give one in return. Nolan got to fire up his pristine grill with a rare food order for the chatty Wardens. The intoxicating smells of cooked meats got the musicians licking their lips, and the barkeep sheepishly threw a few extra scraps on for the help.

The merriment was contagious. As the mix of music, aromas, and laughter wafted into the street, a few more stragglers made their way into the Spotted Pig to sit at the bar and drink away the remainder of the night.

Wesley raised his hand and, a bit sloppily, spun around on his stool to signal to Kalya another round for the group. Duncan craned his neck around Wesley's head, bemused, and shook his head slowly to her, holding up four fingers, but Wesley eclipsed him again and insisted over the music she should really bring five.

Not wanting to upset the Wardens, she rushed to their table to take the order directly, with what she considered to be a compromise... sort of.

"Another round, if you would, my lady," Wesley slurred.

"I was wondering if you would, uh, like to try tonight's special."

"And what might that be?" asked Joran.

Kalya scanned behind the bar for something that wasn't ale. "Antivan whiskey. Only 10 silver."

"10 silver?!" Westley hooted, slamming his fist dramatically on the table.

"Well, it's usually 12... I can just get more ale, though, if you'd -"

"We'll take 5 shots of Antivan whiskey, my lady," said Alistair. "It _is_ a celebration, and I'll be playing _that_ card for as long as I still can."

Kalya hurried behind the bar and filled up the small glasses on her own, while Nolan made conversation with the patrons at the counter. Grasping the slippery little glasses in her hands, Kalya returned to the Wardens, trying to sway her hips _and_ walk a straight line, which was getting more difficult with every passing moment as the ale worked its way through her body.

More lubricated than when they arrived, each of the men were suddenly now suave enough to pause their conversation and thank Kalya profusely. When she arrived at Duncan, he politely refused the second-to-last glass in her hand.

"Someone has to make sure these Wardens find their way back to the inn," he said warmly.

Kalya stood blinking at Alistair with a shot in each hand, and even in the poor lighting, she could swear she saw him blushing.

"Share a drink with me, my lady?" he said, smiling. "For good luck."

When she continued to stand there gaping at him, he took her hand in his... and deftly slipped the glass out from her grasp.

"I need you," Alistair said, and only then did he break eye contact with her. "It. Your luck, that is. But...not that I don't also need..." Alistair intertwined his arm around Kalya's, still holding the shot, and he all but shouted, "For Ferelden!"

Kalya leaned in, arm locked around his thin mail, and downed the strong liquid inches from Alistair's face as her heart pounded.

It burned its way down her throat, making her insides warm, and she could feel herself beginning to care less and less that her face kept flushing constantly whenever she was near him.

At that moment, the musicians struck up a lively song quite popular in Denerim, and all the Wardens, save for Duncan, sprang out of their seats, heading for the clear dancing space between the small stage and the surrounding tables.

Already tugging her arm towards the dancing area, Alistair caught himself and allowed Kalya a deep bow. "May I have this dance?" His hazel eyes twinkled in the dim lantern light.

"I don't know how to -"

"Nonsense. Are you watching these guys? None of us do. Trust me, you're in great company. Although... I _would_ like to know the name of my lovely dance partner."

"My name is Kalya," she said, with another slight curtsy and immediately felt silly. She was introducing herself to a handsome Warden, not greeting a noble at court.

"Maker, that's a beautiful name," said Alistair. "I've never heard one like it."

"It's Dalish. Er, so I'm told."

They joined the other Wardens, and she could see he wasn't exaggerating. The group gyrated awkwardly, hopping about and clapping off-tempo, but they didn't seem to care, and neither did she. Alistair twirled her around and spun her out to arm's length, pulling her in quickly and almost toppling her off her feet. Luckily, she caught her balance by stomping on his foot.

"And you said you didn't dance," said Alistair, chuckling.

"I said I _couldn't_ dance. I've danced plenty before, but somehow dancing with other people is never as graceful as when I'm alone."

"You dance alone often?" Alistair's eyebrow raised, and Kalya felt her face blooming red once again. "I'm fine, by the way." He wiggled his ankle before her. "I've got another one right here."

"You said _you_ didn't dance! Then you go spinning me 'round like we're at an Arl's ball." She folded her arms in mock a pout.

"Oh, trust me. I've brought plenty of girls to their knees with more than a stomp to the foot, I can tell you that."

Kalya's arms dropped, and her heart thundered inside her ribcage. Her mind raced as she tried to stomp out images of her dancing partner with significantly less armor on, and she couldn't stop herself smirking. "Do tell me, how else have you brought girls to their knees?"

Now it was Alistair's turn to radiate various shades of red. He cleared his throat awkwardly and let out a deep breath as he resumed awkward dancing.

"Quite a sound for just three guys, eh?" he said over the music.

"We _could_ have six," she offered and Alistair's eyes widened suddenly. Kalya's mind swam through the thickening haze, and she couldn't tell if he looked horrified or piqued with interest.

"C-Come again?"

"We could have six. Musicians. The other three prefer another tavern, but they do drop by sometimes."

Alistair let out another deep breath. "That is NOT what I thought you said." He flashed her a meek smile and grasped her tiny hands in his, beginning a slower dance. "Do you always have this affect on people?"

"What's that?" Kalya asked. She was beginning to have trouble concentrating on both conversation and dancing, and she worried a bit she'd been rude earlier. At least she was confident enough to talk to him at all, for which she thanked the ale.

"The ability to halt all mental activity and replace it with awkward mishearings and inappropriate urges."

"Urges?" she asked, eyebrow raising slightly. Now she was _sure_ he could feel her heartbeat through the hand Alistair was holding. Was she tipsy, or was he actually coming on to her? Or was he cursed with saying the wrong thing and hoping she didn't misinterpret it?

"You know, I _should_ blame it on the drinks - the many drinks - I've had at your tavern... and... before I came to your tavern, but let's be honest. I'm just as daft and awkward when I haven't had a drop." He pulled her close to him. "But I insist I'm much more charming when the person I'm speaking to is more... on my level. Can I interest you in another drink, my lady?"

"I really shouldn't," Kalya started, "I _was_ supposed to be working, but Nolan wanted me to make sure you lot were taken care of."

"And how better to take care of me than by saving me from the company of those macho brutes?" He gestured to his fellow Wardens. "With them, it's always Blight this and darkspawn that. Your company for the past hour has been a beacon of light in an otherwise seriously depressing existence."

Kalya cast a sideward glance at him. "I hardly think one such as you would lead a depressed existence."

"Oh, you should see me brood. I'm quite good. I was voted best brooder in my class at the Chantry."

Alistair laid his hand on the small of Kalya's back, ever so gently maneuvering her away from the dance floor.

"All right," she said finally. "I'll take your drink - one drink. I don't want to provoke a brood, after all."

"A lady as lovely as yourself? You're like an anti-brood. Any man would need but glance at you to cure himself of gloominess."

Alistair laid his arm on the bar as they approached. "If you're worried about the barkeep, though, you needn't." They glanced down the bar and saw that Nolan had joined the two new customers at their table, all but abandoning the bar. When he noticed them smirking at him, his eyes widened and he gestured for them to continue talking.

"See? He gives his blessing. Isn't that cute? It's like he's paying you to talk to me."

_More like taking half my tips to talk to you_, she thought, although she surely didn't mind the perks.

"I think you'll find you tolerate my personality a bit more after you've tied one more on," Alistair said.

"I'm actually quite enjoying your personality. But I do make it a point to never turn down free food... or drinks."

"Enjoying me, are you?" he said, eyeing her suspiciously. "Maybe you _have_ had too much."

Kalya gave Alistair's shoulder what she meant to be a playful punch and rounded the bar to pour them some drinks. Alistair rubbed his arm dramatically.

"Are you sure you're not up to be a Warden, slugger? You pack quite a punch." He flashed her grin that made her feel weak in the knees. Kalya busied herself looking for glassware. "I could certainly use the company."

She poured two small tumblers with Antivan whiskey - a bit more liberally than Nolan had poured them. He could consider it an advance on her tips for bringing them in, if he noticed anyway.

"Trust me, ser, if I had the coin, I'd leave the Alienage tonight. Er, after this drink, of course."

Alistair's shoulders dropped a bit, and he gazed back at her with what looked like pity. She inwardly kicked herself for the brooding of her own on this otherwise cheerful occasion.

"You actually live in there? I'd - I'd heard it's quite dangerous, especially at night."

Kalya chuckled, "How do you think I learned how to pack a punch?" Alistair didn't join her laughter, and she started feeling really uncomfortable. She grasped the tumbler in her hand, holding the glass up before him. Alistair intertwined his arm in hers as he'd done before.

"To Ferelden?" she asked.

"To you, my dear lady," and he leaned in so close to her face, Kalya was sure he was going to kiss her and she readied herself eagerly, but at the last stalled moment, he hugged her arm into his and tipped back the shot. She followed suit, relieved, but also a bit disappointed.

What was she thinking? She barely knew this man, and suddenly she was allowing herself to feel all warm in her... womanly regions. It was true what she'd said earlier, there had been other "dance partners," but each of them were broke friends she'd known for a long time with nothing else to do than pass the time alone together. She'd never been in a relationship and had never actually understood the urge, until now. Now, when she looked at the man standing next to her, with his chiseled face and sandy, perfectly tousled hair, she suddenly wanted to know everything about him, to have him joke with her at all hours in the night, to share a meal by his side - and not just for the meal, either. Beginning to sweat and gulping hard, Kalya refilled the tumblers.

"One drink becomes two, I see. I _am_ a bad influence," Alistair said, with a hint of slurring overtaking his words. This time, he extended _his _arm in the air, and Kalya coiled hers around it.

"To you, my Grey Warden," she said, with ever more confidence as the night went on.

"Please, call me Alistair," he said warmly. "And for the record, I'm uncomfortable with a toast to me, but I suppose I just did it to you, and fair's fair."

"To new friends, then," she said.

"To new friends."

Kalya downed the warm liquid and made a face. She could feel the flush return to her cheeks, although it wasn't from embarrassment this time. Alistair lowered his glass and chuckled softly, brushing her cheek with his hand.

"I can't help it!" she exclaimed. Her limbs were beginning to feel heavy. "I don't know why my face does that."

"On the contrary, love, I think rosy cheeks are very becoming on you."

A bit clumsily, Alistair slid the glasses away from them down the bar, and one caught an edge and went tumbling over the counter. Kalya's hand instinctively shot out and caught it midair, having barely turned her head.

Alistair stared at her for a moment and then shook his head in disbelief. "You are just full of surprises, aren't you? If you're an apostate, we may need to have an awkward conversation later."

Kalya chuckled. "I'm no mage. Although a few fireballs on the treacherous walk home _would_ come in more handy than the stunning ability to catch a glass." She could not believe she brought up her depressing living situation again, and tried to make the moment pass by laughing meekly at her own joke.

Alistair searched her face for a few moments before sighing deeply and declaring, "All right, I've corrupted you enough." He seemed to be speaking very carefully. "I don't want you thinking I was trying to liquor you up. It's just a day for celebration is all. I survived my Joining. Yay!"

Wistfully, Alistair looked over at the Grey Wardens dancing, the scattered other patrons laughing, and then back into Kalya's eyes with a half smile. He looked quite satisfied with his evening. The musicians continued to mirror the mirth in the room and seemed to be playing louder and louder, possibly hoping for more patrons dropping by from the outside to leave them tips.

The blush on Kalya's face didn't seem to be letting up, and her robes were beginning to feel quite hot. She lifted a hand to begin fanning herself, but as she let go of the bar, she realized that hand had been playing a crucial role in keeping her balance upright. Alistair caught her in his strong arms right before she swooped into the bar.

Kalya wanted to make a joke about his _own_ deft skill at catching things, but it seemed her mouth didn't want to form words. She watched him gulp as he held her, looking thankful to have caught her in time and not eager to let her go. Her blood began to rush southward, and she got the distinct impression that Alistair was too much of a gentleman to actually do what she had been aching for. Kalya reached up, softly touching the sides of his face, closed her eyes, and kissed him deeply. She had expected it to last only a second or so, but he wasn't pulling away, so she dared to bite his lip tenderly. Doing so seemed to harden his resolve, and he pushed hungrily against her mouth, parting her lips with his own.


	3. First Knight

Alistair's arms enveloped her more tightly, and she got an urge to wrap her legs around him, but she didn't dare. She may have been more than tipsy, but she was still aware they were in the open, much as she didn't want to admit it. Just as suddenly as he'd caught her in his grasp, Alistair pulled away from her, possibly having come to a similar realization - at least, she _hoped_ it was just bashfulness.

"Would you be terribly offended if we went somewhere a bit more private?" she asked.

"My thoughts exactly," he said. "They can entertain themselves like that for several more hours, I'm sure."

Kalya took Alistair by the hand and led him into the empty back room of the tavern, hoping no one was watching them, but rapidly caring less and less. She closed the door behind them and turned the lock.

"Maker, I do hope you're not an assassin," said Alistair, spinning around clumsily with a half-worried smile.

Kalya mentally thanked Andraste her switchblade was still behind the bar in her small satchel. Of course, she had never actually killed anyone, but it bought her precious seconds clipping a wing or two when threatened in the various darkened alleys between the manor and her tiny rented room in the Alienage.

Staring at Alistair in the dim light, it was easy enough to play it straight and nonthreatening, as she was suddenly quite eager to see if the armorless images of him flowing through her head at a feverish pace were as accurate as she imagined.

"I'm not, but if someone _does_ pick the lock, I always keep my playful arm-punch at the ready. And you can always get Grey Warden on them, if you like."

"I'll await your command, my lady," Alistair said, bowing deeply. His deep, dulcet voice reverberated through her bones and left a tickle of anticipation inside her. Kalya took a step closer to him, biting her lip with nervous energy. _Just go for it,_ a voice in her head urged.

"I don't suppose you'd... want to remove some of that armor," she said. "I know how Antivan whiskey warms the body." She licked her lips unconsciously in anticipation.

"See now," Alistair began, sounding as nervous as she felt, "that's _just_ what an assassin would say. I think it's only fair you... prove you're not wearing daggers under that beautiful robe."

Kalya slipped her robes over her head quickly enough to watch Alistair shrug out of his armor, and it seemed like time slowed down, although her heart was nearing a rabbit's pace. Unable to control herself any longer, she strode unabashedly toward him, yearning to touch the unsheathed muscular arms that had embraced her moments ago. Alistair seemed only too eager to have her near and grasped her around the waist. This time, he allowed himself a sheepish move to kiss her, but he hadn't expected her eagerness to push him backwards on the scratchy bed.

"Sorry, I'm sorry," she said, pawing the comforter back. "The sheets are much softer. This room is rarely used."

Alistair clucked his tongue. "And the barkeep looked like such the ladies' man."

Kalya detected a look of relief on his face as she threw the covers off the bed, but through her clouded thoughts she couldn't suss out why. Was it because she was taking the initiative so he didn't have to? Wait, was it relief that _she_ didn't use the room often?

"I want you to know," she said thickly, "I'm not usually like this with... gentleman. Very few, actually."

"Well, that's a relief. I'd hate for _neither_ of us to know what we're doing." He chuckled awkwardly, looking very much like he wished he hadn't said that.

"Actually, there's something I've always wanted to try, if you would permit me." She could scarcely believe how bold she was being, but she'd never forgive herself if she didn't at least attempt the act. This was the best-looking man she'd ever seen, much less one who seemed to enjoy her company.

Suddenly breathing very heavily, whether from nervousness or anticipation, Alistair smiled at her in the flickering light. "I surrender to your every request, my Kalya."

Hearing her name on Alistair's tongue send a shiver coursing through her entire body, and she had to restrain herself to move slowly, so as not to tear his smallclothes from him.

Weaving between his legs, which dangled off the edge of the bed, she lowered herself to the floor, pleased to discover he was just as eager as she was. She detected a tremble in his left leg, and she smoothed it with a soft touch.

"I don't have to, if you're not -" she began, and Alistair interrupted her, speaking entirely too fast.

"No, no, could die tomorrow. Please carry on. Definitely _not_ thinking of the Chantry or the Reverend Mother or what they would say."

Kalya grinned and bit her lip with new resolve. She began kissing Alistair's trembling leg, and it slowed again as she worked her way toward his center. Inhaling deeply, she paused, hovering over his manhood, the pulse of her heavy breaths seeming to excite him even more.

Unable to bear it any longer, she grasped him gently and guided him into her mouth. Alistair moaned softly, a moan of hunger and unmeasured yearning for more. She shielded the sharp edge of teeth with her lips to add a bit of pressure as she glided along him slowly.

When her girl friends back at the alienage exchanged tawdry stories of their own experiences, she could never imagine what they would possibly get out of this particular act. But hearing Alistair's longing whimpers with each of her deep thrusts was getting her almost as excited as being pleasured herself.

Keeping a steady pace with her hand, Kalya drew her head back to free her tongue, which she used to trace a slow swirl around Alistair's member. She took him in as deep as she could go, careful not to hurt him, while parting her teeth just enough to brush against him tantalizingly. He seemed to appreciate the gesture, now grasping bunches of the soft sheets in his fists and arching his back ever so slightly with undone passion. Kalya rotated between techniques, picking up the pace with each transition until Alistair was near whimpering with every thrust. His body was now shaking all over, this time with measured restraint.

Kalya hadn't wanted to let him have all the fun, however, and she slowed her pace before apologetically abandoning her work and crawling up the bed to meet his face.

"Maker have mercy," Alistair breathed. "You said you've never _done_ that before?!"

"No," she said softly. "But I _have_ had a lot of time to think about it. A lot of time."

"Well, you must have an exquisite imagination."

Kalya swung her leg over Alistair's torso, straddling him. "This part, I _have_ done," she admitted a bit sheepishly.

"In that case, I am but your willing student."

"This is okay, right?" she asked, hesitating to move down any further. "You mentioned the Chantry, but you're a Grey Warden now."

"Yes, yes, Grey Wardens are... encouraged to indulge in, er, 'pleasurable relaxation,' what with the cheerful mortality rate and all." He reached up and took both her arms in a steely grasp. "And being with you, my dear, has been _very_ pleasurable."

With that vote of confidence, Kalya slid back and again hovered above him as Alistair gazed longingly into her eyes. She was still in her smallclothes, but she quickly unhooked her bra and flung it onto the floor, which drew a light gasp from Alistair that she found amusing.

Unwilling to waste another moment by taking off her lower intimates, she slid aside the trimming on one leg and guided him into her as she lowered herself around him. This drew a gasp from her apprentice lover, and she leaned forward to ride him more vigorously. The look on Alistair's face of shock, gratitude, and disbelief was so arousing to Kalya, she gently but eagerly slammed back down against him after cresting each wave.

It had never felt like this before. He looked so desirous and thankful, all for something that gave her such equal pleasure. She ground her hips against his to change up the rhythm, and that seemed to rouse Alistair into action, thrusting upwards to meet her at every peak.

His newfound confidence took Kalya by surprise, and she gasped and squealed with pleasure. "Oh, Alistair," she breathed, gripping his shoulders tight.

Her reaction seemed to energize him even more, and he tucked a strong arm behind her back and guided her softly down to the bed. Alistair rolled her to her back and straddled above her on all fours, gazing longingly into Kalya's eyes.

"You must forgive me, love," he gulped hard. "I can't promise to match what you've just made me feel, but I'd like to try something _I've_ given a lot of thought to. If my lady would permit me."

"Anything," she breathed, feeling as if she'd melt into the bed.

Alistair lowered himself hesitantly, seeming unsure how to initiate the first steamy bits. In response, Kalya wrapped her legs around his torso as she'd imagined earlier, and the rush of pleasure seemed to give him the boost he desired. Alistair drove into her, and it was all Kalya could do not to scream with passion enough to silence the musicians outside. She bit her lip to keep the screams to excited yelps as Alistair pumped furiously, occasionally slowing down to draw out his stamina, while gazing hungrily into her eyes.

The pangs of ecstasy drove Kalya wild, and she simultaneously couldn't take any more and never wanted this to end. She tilted her hips upward, at first worried it would make it more difficult for Alistair to enter her, but the angle allowed him a deeper entrance, and she moaned with euphoria.

Kalya unfurled her legs as wave after wave of rapture built up inside her body. She grasped the headboard to hold her body steady, giving Alistair the anchor to drive even deeper without scooting her tiny frame with the force of his passion.

Alistair tightened his grip on her waist, only breaking eye contact to nip her playfully up and down her neck and collarbone. When he pulled his head back to better witness her passion, Kalya began to feel a strange sensation building she hadn't experienced before.

When her friends at the Alienage asked in whispers if she had ever "finished" the act, she looked at them strangely, not entirely understanding. She was pretty sure she had, because she'd enjoyed the whole experience and then it was over, but they insisted she would _know_ if she'd truly finished.

Grinding her hips against each of Alistair's fevered pumps, Kalya felt a pressure growing that strengthened her resolve to take him deeper and deeper still. Alistair's eyes grew wide, and she squeezed muscles she didn't know she had control of, causing him to gasp with passion. Suddenly, the tension became too much for her, and her squeals turned into ravenous moans with every thrust. Alistair's panting echoed her own and a wave of ravishment overcame her, radiating outwards through her body in every direction. She continued squeezing, now whimpering with ecstasy, as her partner reached his own crescendo, shuddering with passion as he filled her body the way it yearned to be filled.

With one last gasp of pleasure, Alistair collapsed next to her. After a few moments of reverent panting to catch his breath, he scooped up her torso and drew her nearer to him, hugging her tightly.

"That... I don't... words," he said, and Kalya just nodded in agreement. She hugged the arm encircling her, and sighed once more with deep satisfaction as she drifted off to sleep.


	4. Turning Point

The morning sun was just beginning to rise when Alistair carefully rocked Kalya's shoulders to rouse her from sleep. The sun pierced straight into her eyeballs, and her head began throbbing dully. She carefully flipped around to meet Alistair's face.

"Did you sleep well, my love?" he asked.

"I did. I don't want to admit I wish I were asleep still, but seeing you here ranks a very close second." She smiled at him, although his eyes looked sober. "How did _you_ sleep?"

"I... didn't want to sleep. I needed every last hour to memorize exactly how you've made me feel. I don't want to forget it as long as I live."

Kalya couldn't ignore that Alistair's eyes weren't matching his impish smile the way she had grown used to seeing in the short time she'd known him.

"You have to leave with the Wardens," she guessed, although it came out like more matter-of-factly than she intended.

Alistair let out a deep breath. "I'm afraid I do, love. And I actually spent a good part of the morning working out how to do this in the least awkward way possible."

Kalya began closing up and was instantly angry at herself for being so petty. She'd certainly expected this, but she half hoped he would have left her in the night as she slept. With no sense of closure, she wouldn't have to remember the painful, awkward part most men would be tripping over themselves to avoid. _No_, she thought. _Alistair is a good man, Maker be damned._

"I don't mind," she said suddenly. "You don't have to... say anything. I sincerely wish you the best on your journey. I'll pray for your safe travels at the chantry."

"No, it's not that," Alistair began. "I mean, thank you. I certainly need it. But... I wanted to give you a gift."

Alistair rose and walked to a pouch by his light armor, sheepishly slipping on his smallclothes in the process.

"This is awkward, because I don't want you to feel like... This is a _gift_, as I said."

Kalya narrowed her eyes, unsure what to steel herself for. He reached into his pouch and pulled out 5 sovereigns, dropping them into her open palm.

"I couldn't work out how to give you this without... cheapening what we had together. This isn't a payment or anything. Perish the thought. I want you to use it to get out of the Alienage. It's much too dangerous there for a beautiful woman."

Alistair put his hand on her shoulder as she continued to stare wide-eyed into her palm.

"I've heard there's a band of Dalish elves who travel throughout Ferelden. You can use this money to hitch a ride with some traveling dwarves. Or you can go to any town you please. Just please keep yourself safe."

Her eyes welled up with tears, and for once, she didn't know how to respond. Her body began to shake, and Alistair looked terrified that he had done the wrong thing. He bent his knee to the floor and softly lifted her chin to meet his eyes.

"I haven't offended you, have I?"

Kalya sniffled and gulped back a sob. She searched his eyes for some hint of a joke and found nothing but longing. "I make 30 silver a week at the manor, and that all goes to rent. I've never... I've never seen _one_ sovereign."

"So you'll promise me?" he asked. As she nodded, he drew her into an embrace. A tear rolled down her cheek, and she hugged him tightly, lifting a hand to wipe it away before he could see.

"Grey Wardens are needed all over Ferelden," he said finally, drawing back but keeping her shoulders grasped in his strong hands. "Who knows? We may even meet again, Maker willing."

She let out a light chuckle. "I shall pray for that too at the chantry."

"Right before you leave Denerim," he said, in a mock admonishing tone.

"Right before I leave Denerim," she nodded. "I'll make sure to find a town with a chantry, just so I can continue to pray for you."

"As long as you remain safe, I will gladly take any prayers you're willing to give."

Alistair stood up and slipped his armor back on slowly, not eager for their time to be at an end.

"I-I can't thank you enough for this," Kalya said, curling her fingers around the gold as he slipped on his boots. He took her hand and kissed it softly as he bowed.

"It's I who should be thanking you. You'll never know what an honor it was to meet you, my lady. My new purpose in life is to swiftly defeat the darkspawn that I may meet you once again someday, if not only to thank you again for what we shared last night."

With a heavy sigh, he looked around the room, as if desperate to find anything else that would take up his time. Finding nothing, he rushed to kiss Kalya so deeply she felt she must have lifted off the bed.

"Until we meet again, my love," he said, bowing deeply.

Kalya dipped her head towards him. "Maker's blessings, Ser Alistair."

With that, Alistair was off to aid the Grey Wardens in their fight against the archdemon. Kalya lay back on the bed. In the silent hour that followed, she was surprised to find within herself not sadness, but hope for her new life. Once she'd formulated a plan for leaving Denerim and beyond, she rose from the bed, slipped on her robes, and tucked the sovereigns into a few hidden pockets in her sleeves.

Kalya took a deep breath, exhaled, and left the room a free woman.

* * *

_Author's Note: My apologies for this chapter being so short, but thanks to the advice of some very kind commenters, I'm expanding this story into a full tale. It was just intended to be fluff, but now I've gotten curious about where the Blight will take Kalya, and I've plotted out some interesting circumstances, I think. I can't thank you enough for your kind comments, and keep up the great advice! I told my beta reader (to whom I'm married) how I wanted it to end, and, well, he has different ships than me, so there are a few different ways it could end up!_

_Thanks you so much for following and reading! _


	5. Rock and a Hard Place

Kalya shifted on a sack of rice as the cart dipped and pitched over the rough terrain. The wind whipping between the winding foothills brought a refreshing aroma of nature unimaginable to someone who had lived in the cramped streets of Denerim since birth. Tucking a tendril of her short auburn hair behind her ear, she closed her eyes to the sun, almost completely able to ignore the fact that these dwarves seemed to now be _aiming_ for holes in the road.

In two days' time, she would arrive at what was said to be the most beautiful sight in all Ferelden: the northern town of Highever. She just hoped she wouldn't be seeing it for the first time through a wince from saddle sores. The sun beamed down on her pale face, and Kalya welcomed the warmth, determined to reach her destination with a fuller crop of freckles than she'd ever had. The noblewomen of Denerim hated elves with freckles, thinking it made them look cornfed and dimwitted, as if they'd ever be treated as anything more anyway. It was refreshing not to have to worry about pleasing a pompous human master ever again.

The past week had been a blur of activity. True to her promise to Alistair, she had left the dangerous Alienage in Denerim to seek more peaceful pastures. It had come at quite a cost, but luckily the gift of five sovereigns – given out of pity or gratitude, she wasn't sure which and not sure she minded – covered all her expenses.

The majority of coin had gone to the two dwarves who had agreed to take her as far as Highever while they continued west to sell their wares. With the remainder, Kalya purchased some tanned leather armor and two daggers with ivory handles – exceedingly light and aerodynamic. Peaceful pastures they may be, but safety in blade numbers never hurt.

Saying goodbye to Nolan was bittersweet, but his family owned the tavern and he certainly wouldn't starve without her shabby waitressing. There was no ceremony around leaving her day job at the manor, although she would have liked to go out in a blaze of glory, setting fire to the kitchen or stabbing the noble's lecherous son in the privates. A girl could still dream.

Athough she'd lived in the Alienage her whole life, the elves with whom she spent her rare downtime were little more than acquaintances, with the occasional boring one-night or two-week stand. She _would_ miss gossiping with her friend Malana, who was charming enough to rack up more one-night stands than most, but the girl couldn't seem to hold down a steady job. Kalya left some old serving clothes so Malana could take over her job at the manor if she wanted – not that any humans would notice it was a completely different elf.

The Coastlands were mountainous and dry, but soon they would emerge into the lush green clearing of the Highever Foothills. Still, Kalya was enamored with the dusty layered rocks jutting from the ground in every direction. Compared to the cramped capitol, she suddenly felt very foreign and enraptured at the same time.

A glint from behind a dark rock caught her eye as they rounded a corner, startling her from her reverie.

"Bodahn," she hissed suddenly, "stop the cart!"

The dwarf turned around to see what Kalya was going on about when the first of the bandits descended upon them. Without thinking, Kalya slithered down the back of the cart and crawled underneath. There was a chance neither assailant had seen her. From underneath the vehicle, she watched as Sandal, Bodahn's simple ward, stormed off towards the men until Bodahn stopped him with a stiff but unwavering arm. The bandit whose weapon had tipped Kalya off appeared from around a large rock to join the first attacker.

"N-Now, we don't need no trouble," Bodahn said. "Fact, why don't you take a look at what we've got here, and we can call it even? Anything you like."

"Tell ya what," one of the men grumbled. "We take the cart, everything on it, and I slit ya throat for that pretty little amulet you got 'round ya neck."

Kalya could hear Bodahn gulp as adrenaline coursed through her veins. Her mind began racing through attack scenarios, but this was no dark alley. There was no way to make a frontal assault with their strength, and it was too light in the afternoon sky to use shadows as a cover for a sneak attack from the side. She searched the ground for a rock whose sound might distract them in another direction, but nothing was large enough.

"N-Nonsense. I mean, you can have it, but I've got three more right in the back there. Sandal, be a good boy and show these nice men some of our wares."

Sandal stomped to the back of the cart as Kalya spun around in the dirt silently. She slowly peered out at him, out of view of their assailants, and pressed a finger to her lips, willing him to look at her without making a sound or wrong expression. Sure enough, they locked eyes, and Sandal's usually blank expression held a wild rage she'd never seen.

Slowly she lowered her finger, nodding back to the men. Sandal kept his eyes locked on her as he busied inside a bag, and Kalya knew he could understand. For the past week's ride, she didn't think Bodahn gave him nearly enough credit for all he picked up on. Now to put that to the test. She pointed to him and traced a half circle towards her in the dirt, then keeping eyes locked on him, pushed both hands out in front of her.

Without any indication of comprehension, Sandal grasped a few spare amulets in his huge hands and slunk back around the cart. Kalya sighed in mild defeat and spun back around, keeping an eye out for any chance to strike.

Sandal's heavy feet padded over to the far side of the two bandits, placing them between him and the cart, while Bodahn wrung his hands off to the side. Had he understood after all? From Kalya's vantage point, she could see Sandal delicately holding the amulets up to their eye level to study.

"Enchantment?" he asked.

In the blink of an eye, Sandal dropped both amulets and shoved each man with as much strength as she had ever seen from a dwarf, barely budging from the effort at half their size. Kalya had daggers primed as both men ricocheted off the cart, knocking it backwards and revealing her position. Lunging forward, she sliced an Achilles tendon on each bandit before they could even unsheathe their own weapons. Sandal fell upon the more vocal of the tormentors, and they both crumpled to the ground.

In the following moments, time seemed to slow down. Options raced through her mind in milliseconds, at once begging her to weigh her options carefully while still moving swiftly. She had never killed a man and hadn't actually thought much about winging the various dangerous drunks outside the Alienage. But standing above a bleeding marauder clutching his leg with his chest as a wide-open target had an air of finality she'd never come up against. Were the nagging thoughts telling her there was another way? Should she feel wrong about relishing in punishing the men who forced her hand?

The bandit caught her eye from beneath her, snapping her out of her reverie, which, in truth, had only lasted a few blinks. He had the wild desperate look of a man with no other options. Clearly the other man had been the leader, and this one's eyes begged Kalya to spare him moments before she drove both daggers into his chest, hoping one would reach its mark and end his life quickly.

When she was sure the life had drained out of him, she sat back on her heels to catch her breath when she suddenly remembered the other man. She spun around and Sandal was standing as tall as he could next to his attacker's bruised and bloodied body crumpled on the ground. Chest heaving and knuckles raw, Sandal stared straight ahead, past Kalya and Bodahn into nothingness.


	6. A Time of Wood and Stone

"I-I'm sorry. My boy and I just can't handle the type of excitement you seem to attract."

Bodahn didn't have the conviction Kalya assumed he wanted behind his words, but he persisted in packing up her belongings with some dried food anyway, staying on the far edge of the cart, away from the recently deceased bodies of the bandits that had tried to kill them.

"Attract?!" Kalya shouted, adrenaline still fresh in her veins. "They ambushed us! Do you think this happens to me quite often?"

"You were certainly quick with a blade – and for that my boy and I are certainly thankful. I mean no disrespect, but…"

"Your _boy_ took out the leader faster than I did! He didn't even have a weapon!"

Sandal beamed, and Kalya quickly dipped her head towards him in respect and continued.

"We could be a team. I could – we could protect you!"

"I'm sorry, my la—miss. I just don't think we even need to carry on to Highever. I was thinking of heading south, to Lothering. But either way, you'll have to go on without us."

Kalya stood shaking her head, speechless. She angrily tried to convince herself she'd be happy to be rid of the dwarves, but she couldn't help but worry how they'd make it halfway across the country if Bodahn couldn't stomach fighting off two bandits.

"There," Bodahn handed over her bag sheepishly. "You'll have enough food and water for the next two days. Should make it to Highever just fine. I even packed you a small jug of Denerim Red."

She didn't try to hide her sneer. Homeless in the Alienage often turned down that swill.

"Just continue through this passage and keep the sun to your right until nightfall. You can make camp when you get to a clearing at the end of this pass."

"Oh, really?" Kalya shook her tiny pack at him. "With my _tent_? And _bedroll_?!"

"We only have the one canvas and the bedrolls are…inventory. Look, we wish you all the best. I'm sure you'll be just fine out there without us."

Too angry to argue any more, Kalya spun on her heel and stormed into the mouth of the passage, where the bandits had first emerged. She hoped the dwarves would notice she didn't even turn back to say goodbye, but the clink of the dead men's armor told her they had already moved on to other things.

:::

Dusk had fallen by the time Kalya emerged from the mountain pass, but rather than lush, flat greenery of Highever's outskirts, a thick forest opened up before her. She rolled her eyes to no one, doubting the dwarves had ever actually gotten this far north before.

Although the moon cast a cool glow that filtered through the trees and reached the forest floor in some areas, the distant howling from within didn't make her eager to make camp anytime soon, especially on the damp forest floor.

At some point during the night, the dim light retreated with the moon, leaving the forest almost pitch black. With more ease than it took to clamber up the high-rise buildings in Denerim to search for food in the winter months, Kalya shimmied up a tree with a cluster of sturdy branches just a few dozen feet off the ground. She found a crook that looked to be a safer if not terribly comfortable alternative to being a midnight wolf buffet, but she needed to rest while she could. Winding her human-sized belt around the branch, she fastened it tight around her midsection, hoping to keep herself put through the night.

Sleep didn't come easily. Visions of the man's pleading face swam through her head, and her heart began pounding so hard she felt it might rock her body clear off the perch. There could have been some other way. Perhaps her charge could have been let go, free to take on a new life with his leader dead. The thought made her dizzy and her stomach lurched. She suddenly wished very much she had stayed in one of the mountain's caves as the dim scenery seemed to pitch around her. Concentrating on controlling her breathing, Kalya ran a shaking hand through her short hair, surprised to find beads of sweat on her forehead in the cool air.

She rubbed her eyes hard and tried to think of Alistair's kind face, pleading with her to get out of Denerim, to stay safe, but her stabbing doubts were unyielding. How did Grey Wardens make the right judgments in the blink of an eye? Did they always?

For the first time since she'd left, Kalya second-guessed her decision to escape the Alienage, her mind echoing the warning sentiments of her father and the cousins she'd left behind. The pang of ache that blossomed in her heart was a fitting punishment, she decided, for trying as hard as she could not to think of them in days past.

They had begged her to stay, insisting she was overstating the emptiness and dismay she felt about Alienage life, that everyone felt that way when they were her age, and if she stuck it out, she would eventually find her place. But the seed of doubt had been planted as a child that there was so much more to Thedas than elves in the Alienage allowed themselves to experience. When her mother's childhood stories of adventure and intrigue were suddenly cut down with her murder, Kalya silently vowed to live the life her mother always dreamed of.

The past few years had been the most difficult as she worked and worked to get enough money to move away from the capitol, never breaking even and keeping her heart's secret from family and holding the rare friend at a distance. When her father found her looking for a second job, he thought it would set her coin worries at ease to bring up the "approaching marrying age" chat, but her resolve was only strengthened, eyes glazing over as he talked and mentally packing up her room.

But if she had thought she was empty then, sitting in a tree without even a well-intentioned father to assure her she had only acted in self-defense, rebuke her for second-guessing herself, or hold her while she ached, she hadn't truly known what emptiness was.

Kalya shuddered against the cold bark, willing Alistair's brave face back into mind, if for no other reason than to calm her and make her forget the day, even for a moment. She pictured him standing tall in his armor, readying selflessly for battle. A Grey Warden did what had to be done when lives were threatened. With one last sigh, she nestled into the crook of the tree branch and stared thoughtlessly at the two or three stars threatening to pierce through the black sky.

:::

It was the shrieks she heard first – a woman's pained screams mixed like tendrils of smoke with young voices crying out in terror. Walking all morning had taken Kalya from the thick forest completely, and she quickly discovered the lush greenery of Highever's outlying plains _had_ been worthy of all the bards' songs. But the bloodcurdling cries pierced her reverie in the peaceful surroundings, and she ducked to the ground as she advanced, eager to help the pained voices but less so to meet their cause.

An otherworldly growl resonated through her as she approached the scene around the low-lying foothills, and Kalya was almost bowled over by two tiny elves fleeing in her direction. She knelt to intercept the youngest into her arms, its eyes wide and face streaked with tears.

No more than 5 years old, he hadn't looked up before barreling into her, while his brother, just a head taller, squared himself behind this sudden development with a poorly construed brave face.

"Can you climb a tree, little one?" she whispered urgently.

The smaller elf took a step back and nodded, still breathing heavily. Kalya gestured to the cluster of trees behind her.

"Climb as high as you can safely, and I'll tell you when it's all right to come down." She turned to the older brother. "You'll stay by his side and make sure he doesn't fall?"

The brother gulped hard and gave a single nod, lip quivering as he ran past her.

Mindful to not meet head-on whatever they were running away from, Kalya scrambled up a nearby hill to survey the scene ahead of her. An elven woman dressed practically in rags was backing away from a knight or a guard advancing on her with a short dagger. A mabari stood between the two of them, hackles raised and ears flat, growling at the man. The scene didn't make sense until she saw a sword on the ground some paces away, and blood seeping from a dent in the armor on the knight's right arm. Could a mabari bite through steel?

"Please, ser," the woman said through sobs. "I wasn't hurting no one. Just let me take care of my sons, and I'll come back!"

The mabari snapped as the man advanced on her, and Kalya saw that the massive hound was tethered to a tree. The elf wisely kept the mabari between them, but she wasn't out of range of a thrown dagger.

"Stealing from the teryn is a crime punishable by death!"

"I didn't steal nothing!"

"Your two brats will need to be replaced, and don't try to tell me this mongrel is wild. If you don't return with me now, I have orders to dispose of the property before anyone else gets any ideas."

The woman considered his words for a moment and then dove for the sword, which was further out than the mabari's tether could reach. Kalya's heart sank as she scooped up the weapon. By her stance, there was no way the woman had wielded a sword before. It dipped to the ground almost immediately, and the man stepped on the blade, lunging forward to drive his dagger into the elf's gut.

The mabari's wild barking was enough to mask the sound of pebbles' plinking underfoot as Kalya skidded down the hill behind the man. An aching tightness clenched in her chest, making it hard to breathe, but she barely noticed. Bounding off a large rock, she launched into the back crook of the guard's knee, crumpling him to the ground. Before he could turn his head, Kayla grabbed his hair, yanked his head back, and ran her blade deep across his throat.

As his torso fell to the ground, she rolled off to the side, bracing herself shakily on one arm, gasping for air. Kalya didn't know how long she remained there on the ground, but at some point she curled her legs up underneath her, shivering and sobbing.

Eventually, the mabari's barking subsided, jarring her back to the present. She propped herself up on one arm. Two corpses lay before her, and the smell of fresh blood was about to make her retch. Locking eyes with the dog and dipping her head in submission, she crawled over and untied the frayed rope that looped around its collar, praying to the Maker he wasn't the soldier's dog.

Slowly, and in a low crawl, the hound made its way over to the dead elf, nosing her gently, sniffing for signs of life, until it was sure it found none. Then, as if knowing what an imposing form it had, it approached Kalya cautiously, eyes to the ground, and nuzzled her sadly with its head. She draped an arm around the mutt and continued crying, feeling foolish and exhausted and helpless all at once.


	7. Traveler

For the past week, Alistair had preferred to sleep outside. It was warmer by the fire anyway, and staring at the stars was infinitely more interesting than memorizing the drab ceiling of his tent. The sleepless nights he was getting used to, but tonight brought on a fun new bonus: a dull ache in the pit of his stomach!

Kalya's face danced through his memories. A flash of the curvature of her hips. The sensation of her fingertips feathering across his chest. It was those recollections that kept him inside the canvas for the first week of sleepless nights. As guilty and wrong as it felt, even the most battle-hardened warrior needed a polished sword if he was to remain composed in the fray. And it wasn't exactly easy or painless to shift himself around underneath 50 pounds of armor when those memories flitted in during daylight.

It wasn't just memories of fevered passion that distracted him. When Duncan caught Alistair listlessly staring off into the rapids of the Drakon River after an unremarkable battle with some bandits who had foolishly tried to jump them, he had placed an armored hand on the new recruit's shoulder. Alistair jumped at the touch, roused from a daydream of a simpler life: cozy home, warm fire, smiling wife.

Without saying a word, Duncan recommitted Alistair back to their cause with little more than a knowing and sad smile. They were Grey Wardens. It was their job to keep Ferelden safe, and if a Blight really was stirring as the rumors suggested, life was only going to be more difficult for them as the days passed. Alistair needed to stay focused if he was going to survive and keep his promise to Kalya – to meet again someday, after his duty was done.

Since that day, Alistair worked to keep Kalya in a place of inspiration in his mind rather than longing. She was so much more than a lover from a fleeting, passionate moment in his past. Saving Ferelden from the Blight was every Grey Warden's goal, and Alistair stood more stalwart than ever to protect the land that contained an elf who didn't know how perfect she was. He intended to tell her that someday.

This renewed perspective had begun to serve him well and had even offered him a night or two of restful sleep as he and Duncan made their way south, split from other Wardens before circling back to report their findings in less than six months' time. But when the rare darkspawn they came across became the _occasional_ darkspawn, the weight of fear that this was a true Blight drove Alistair out of his tent nightly to count stars until sleep found him.

His skill with a sword was just about the only ability Alistair took confidence in, but he was only one man. Grey Warden numbers had been thinning for years, and even _if_ the stubborn playboy king declared this to be a Blight, it could be months before other nations could make it to Ferelden for backup.

The Wardens' route on this dangerous path wasn't on accident either. Duncan had been keeping an eye out for bandits with enough skill to at least place on the front lines of their cause, but those they had come across were such terrible fighters, it wasn't even worth seeing if they'd survive a Joining. Death by the Wardens' hands was more merciful than succumbing to the taint – whether by imminent darkspawn attack or Joining Ritual gone horribly wrong.

Alistair's stomach lurched and gurgled uncomfortably. That was it. The elves.

That morning, Duncan had used the Right of Conscription on a jailer caravan on its way to South Reach. In it were two escaped elves being hauled back to their owners, but when Duncan stopped the caravan to inquire about what manner of enemies they might have passed, Alistair watched one of the elves – a woman – snake her arm through the bars and expertly pick the lock, freeing her and her male companion. The male was one of the only elves Alistair had ever seen that he'd describe as positively robust, and when he and Duncan gave chase and eventually apprehended them, their spirit and athleticism proved to make them worthy potential Wardens. Duncan invoked the Right to the angry jailors, who reluctantly set them free under the Wardens' care.

Within hours, Duncan had concocted the mystical liquid for the Joining Ritual, using blood from the darkspawn they'd come across the day prior, and he served the chalice to the two elves eager for a new life. Alistair hadn't witnessed a Joining since his own, and his heart tightened in his chest as he watched them sip from the ornate goblet.

The taint hit the female first. Her eyes rolled back in her head, as did the male's beside her, but they stayed standing, which was a good sign. Suddenly, they began gurgling and choking and dropped like sacks to the ground, one over the other. Alistair locked eyes with Duncan, who blinked solemnly and shook his head.

It was Kalya, in Alistair's mind, at least. Her deftness at catching the dropped glass, self-deprecating jokes about her skill with a blade, her taut rogue's body. He'd felt her strength when they were together, and even after they left Denerim, he had hoped, in the Wardens' desperation, she might be a good Grey Warden candidate. He never brought it up to Duncan, for one because he worried all green recruits tried to convince the Warden-Commander that their lover was strong enough to join and he'd just look foolish, but also because he didn't want to chance the coin flip that she wouldn't survive her Joining, as these elves did not.

Alistair placed his hand on his stomach and pushed down, as if he could work away the nervous pain within. He measured his breaths and slowed them, repeating gratefully in his head: _It wasn't her. She's safe. It wasn't her._

:::

The salt air on the wind hit them before anyone could spot the ocean. Kalya wasn't sure what to do with the tiny elves, or the mabari for that matter, once she reached Highever, but she was certainly happy for the latter's company over the past two days. The highways were truly no place for travelers on foot, but luckily the dog's imposing presence kept the four of them as safe as they could be on the last legs of their journey.

But truly, she wasn't sure what would happen once she reached their destination. She supposed she would try to find work, perhaps seeking some kind soul in the Chantry to look after the children.

Her chest still seized up whenever the woman's face drifted into her mind, and if it hadn't been for the gentle nudging of the mabari's face into the palm of her hand as she coaxed the young ones out of the tree, she might have left them to fend for themselves, rather than admit to anyone what she had let happen. If only she had slid down the hill a moment sooner. If only she hadn't been too scared to run directly through the valley, since the soldier would never have noticed her over the commotion anyway. The boys hadn't said much on the journey. Although she could only assume their life had been pretty rough to force their mother to run away with so much at risk, she silently cursed the Maker for exposing ones so young to such pain.

If Kalya didn't have enough on her mind, there was certainly plenty of quiet time to stress about the fast-approaching possibility of being homeless and copperless. When she agreed to travel with the dwarves, she assumed she'd hop off the cart in Highever's Market District and begin looking for work and a room somewhere immediately. Vowing never to work as a servant again, she'd use what little remained of her coin on clothing with the meek hope of getting another waitressing job.

While it would have been relatively easy to enter city lines as a merchant, now there would be significantly more questions about her business strolling into Highever with two elves and a possibly stolen mabari.

Even if the Chantry took the orphans in no-questions-asked, Kalya would need a career under the radar for a while, and making real coin fast meant making friends with shady types. The usual smugglers or mercenaries were sure to be found in just about any city in Ferelden.

_How _does_ one get into the mercenary business? _she wondered listlessly. _Do they take on apprentices, or do you just start killing people for free and hope they like your work?_

Her own dark humor made her stomach churn. Two lives taken, when a few days ago she'd never harmed a living thing. She let out a deep sigh, and the mabari startled her by nuzzling against her arm.

Highever slowly rose before them on the coast, still few hours' walk in the distance. Carts of travelers entered and left the city from all sides as the plains flattened out before them. The path they had been taking was blessedly empty, but a low rumbling behind them drove Kalya to herd the group quickly into a nearby patch of bushes. They'd gotten used to the routine, and the elves wordlessly flattened themselves out of sight against the dipping embankment. She peered out between the leaves as it passed.

A shield sat prominently beside sacks of goods and the symbol emblazoned across it looked strikingly familiar. A lion or a dragon… _A griffon!_ She craned her neck dangerously out of hiding in an attempt to glimpse the driver as the mabari whined softly.

The horse carried on at a steady pace, and soon the driver was far out of sight. _It couldn't have been Alistair,_ Kalya convinced herself, heart pounding. _All the way up north and alone as a new recruit? There was just no way._

The elves continued their trek, sprinting between stands of trees where they could cool down and catch their breath. The boys ran hand in hand and the mabari circled the group protectively. _Maybe he knows where Alistair is, though. And if he's safe. I mean, how many Grey Wardens could there be in Highever? _

The younger elf caught Kalya smiling and smiled meekly back at her, sending a pang of guilt through her that soured her expression. As easy as it had been to keep friends at arm's length to avoid weepy goodbyes in Denerim, plotting the abandon of elves orphaned by her own dawdling was a different matter entirely.

Kalya retrieved a cloak from her pack and tied it gruffly around the younger elf, eager to get to the Chantry before nightfall.

:::

The affluence of the city was easy to see even in the darkening skies. From the slick cobblestones to the perfect stonework making up the architecture, everything gleamed a creamy white as if it had been scrubbed daily. It was nothing like the dusty dirt roads from back home. The beauty was almost enough to salve the fear of her daunting tasks ahead.

Dusk was where Kalya had always flourished. Too early for ne'er-do-wells to have left their nightly tavern rounds but just late enough to creep silently through the shadows on empty streets. Her companions unquestioningly hugged the walls, waiting patiently as she scaled a slippery wall to get a better view.

The ostentatious Chantry wasn't difficult to find, but when they reached its doors, Kalya had been a bit surprised to find them locked. Well, for the moment.

"Open for all to worship," she muttered, "provided you don't work all day and you go to sleep at sunset."

Still, the ease with which she picked the lock was almost criminal – okay, it was _definitely_ criminal – and Kalya felt compelled to recite a quick "Andraste, forgive me" as the door creaked closed behind them so the elves didn't grow up to be uncaring felons or anything. Caring felons would be perfectly acceptable.

Red candles lined the hallway around them, casting dancing shadows on the creamy stone of the Chantry's walls. Rows of pews lined up before them ending at a resplendent dais, and Kalya rolled her eyes that a city so wealthy still seemed to have a lot they needed to pray about.

She didn't know what she had expected to find. Maybe a sign somewhere that said "Drop off orphans here" with an arrow pointing down to a nice cushion or two. The mabari kept watch by the heavy front doors as Kalya led the group down the aisle as a chill settled into her bones in the cool air. As she reached a pew near the center, she motioned for the elves to slide in, and she followed, sitting for what felt like the first time in ages.

"Why don't you guys stretch out and try to get some rest?" Kalya said. "Might not be as comfortable as grass, but you're much safer here."

"Are we going to work here?" the older elf asked.

Kalya gulped hard.

"I don't – I…" She sighed. "I'm going to see if I can find the Revered Mother."

The moment she rose from the pew, a door down a back hallway offshooting from the dais creaked open and dim light spilled out. Cautious footfalls accompanied the flickering light as it slowly approached. The boys looked to Kalya for instructions to act, but she held out a hand and inhaled deeply.

"Here we are then," she whispered.

Hands held up to show she meant no harm, Kalya slowly approached the hallway. A candelabra appeared first before the frightened sister rounded the corner, and her shriek made Kalya jump as the sconce dropped from the sister's hand. Kalya instinctively shot out to grab it before it clattered to the ground, but when she looked up from her hunched-over catching position, the sister had procured a small dagger and was pointed it shakily at her. _No more sudden movements. Got it._

"Please, sister. We seek sanctuary here."

"How did you get in?" she demanded, sounding more courageous than she looked.

"…Well, we tried seeking sanctuary outside but muggers kept stealing our tithes."

The sister's stern expression remained frozen. Kalya exhaled and slowly extended the candelabra for the sister to take back from her.

"Please. It's not safe at night, and I… some children have lost their mother. I didn't know where else to go."

She gestured to the pew, and a head slowly popped up to peer at them. The sister grabbed the sconce from Kalya's hand and rushed to their side.

"Tiny elves! Oh, you poor dears." She knelt beside them, caressing their faces as they stared back at her, wide-eyed. "Whatever happened? No, please don't tell me. Don't relive it another moment."

"I'm not… sure how this works. I don't have the means to care for them, but I thought maybe they'd be safe here?" Kalya scratched her neck uncomfortably.

"Do you know where they're from? Have they any other family?"

"Out of town," she said, staring deep into the eyes of the older boy. "Must be Dalish." He stared back at her, pleading silently to tell the truth that they might be spared, and her heart broke. There was no way their human former master would recognize them, but when you live in fear and servitude, there's not a lot of room for hope. Kalya gulped again before the final blow.

"I think the Maker led them to me so I could bring them here. They're tall for their age. Should be quite strong. They could help you out around the Chantry in exchange for shelter."

"I don't know…" The sister wrung her hands. "Normally we send children to be fostered by the parish, but they're all humans…"

"Please, my lady!" the smaller elf said. "My mom taught me how to scrub floors, and we can wash your pretty robes."

The sister put her hand over her heart.

"I'll have to run it past the Revered Mother, but… well, I don't see why you couldn't stay."

Kalya exhaled in relief. She counted out a few beats before awkwardly heading for the door, but the holy woman interrupted with a frightened squeak. She had just discovered the looming mabari by the door.

"Just these two little ones, is it?" the sister asked.

"Yes, we're, uh, we're leaving."

But there was something else. Kalya sheepishly made her way back over to them, praying to the Maker to avoid a grand goodbye scene.

When she was in arm's length of the sister, she slowly handed over the dagger – handle-side first, of course, with no sudden movements. The sister's jaw dropped and she quickly patted her robes down, hesitating for a moment before suspiciously taking it from her.

"It's, um, dangerous to brandish these if you don't know what you're doing," Kalya said, suddenly finding the rest of the Chantry very interesting. "You're better off with the fire." She nodded towards the candelabra.

Three faces gaped at her in silence. If mabaris could gape, he was probably joining them. Possibly rolling his eyes, as well.

"Well, I'll be… Yeah."

Kalya hurried to the giant front doors of the Chantry trying to think of some last words to leave with the elves. Anything. The mabari snorted as she joined his side. Nothing came to mind. They were better off here than they were with her. Probably. As long as their master didn't recognize him. She'd just bring danger into their lives, like Bodahn had said. She wasn't just conveniently sloughing them off at the first opportunity. It was better this way.

She was through the door before anyone could see her eyes mist.


	8. Bloodied

_Author's Note: Trigger Warning: attempted rape._

* * *

The gigantic Chantry doors clicked shut behind Kalya, and she rested against them to compose herself. When she had located the Chantry from her perch high above the city, she'd made a beeline right through town, keeping her eyes low to the ground for danger in the immediate surroundings, but now with streets quiet, the massive architecture loomed around her, making her feel very small and very alone.

Not far to her right rose a tall, impressive castle she hadn't noticed before that caused her heart to race. A structure that close to the Chantry could only be the wealthy home of Highever's teyrn, sworn ruler of the soldier she had murdered in the forest. Although it was unlikely his body had even been found by now, Kalya was eager to head straightaway in the opposite direction, toward the increasingly shabbier part of town. She didn't fancy ending up at another Alienage, but the surrounding area was sure to be shady enough to take rent money from an elf, no questions asked.

As Kalya started on her way, the mabari huffed at her in the darkness. She spun around to find him no longer at her side. He swayed his heavy head in the direction of the castle.

"So this is it then?" she asked. "Just making sure I didn't sell them into slavery, and off you go?"

He cocked his head to one side.

"Didn't need another mouth to feed anyway."

The mabari squared off and growled quietly.

"All right! All right! I was just – It was nice meeting you, sir." She bowed, and he huffed at her again, turning around.

"Hey! Thanks for your help. Keep fighting the good fight, yeah?"

He snorted and continued on his way towards the castle.

:::

The stillness of the night air was perfectly suited for allowing niggling doubts to creep past the barriers one tried so hard to keep fortified.

For three days, Kalya had crept around the town during the day, hood raised to hide her ears, searching furtively for abandoned shelter and discarded food. Denerim had enough closely stacked apartments that fell into such disrepair, the human inhabitants simply up and left, open for all self-loathing elf squatters who preferred cast-off human dwellings to compulsory Alienage squalor.

In Highever, there seemed to be only the latter. Kalya had spent each night in a different dark alley, buried beneath overflowing sacks of grain that were terribly itchy but blessedly inconspicuous. She was a light sleeper, but every time she jerked awake at a sudden noise, the drunk or cutpurse was simply passing through.

Street crime was an order of magnitude less than in her hometown, but it certainly existed, rising steadily after sundown. But the largely wealthy people of Highever carried with them a false sense of security that served Kalya well, allowing her to walk amongst them somewhat surreptitiously during the day.

At dusk, after most humans had cleared the streets, Kalya liked to shimmy up the higher buildings to take in the breathtaking surroundings and catch a gulp of the sea air. It was all she could do to convince herself leaving Denerim was the right choice.

Highever Castle was situated on the northern coast, overlooking the sea. The town radiated around it, with import roads leading in from the east and west. The Alienage was pocketed in the southernmost corner of the city, and rich farmlands dotted the northeastern border.

As she surveyed the town from her perch one evening, Kalya spotted a patch of light emanating from a small building just outside the Alienage. She scurried down from her vantage point and zigzagged through back alleys, slowing only when she approached the entrance, yellow light, music, and laughter spilling out into the street around her.

The smells drifting from within made her mouth water. This was clearly not an establishment that only turned its grill on every few weeks for the rare customer. Her stomach growled angrily, and it took everything for her not to throw caution to the wind and march in there as if she belonged. Truth was, even with the hood on, the pronounced bridge of her nose announced her race to all who looked closely enough, and there were surprisingly no elves within the establishment so close to their living area.

Allowing herself one last masochistic inhalation of the sweet grilling meats, Kalya was about to turn and go, when she saw a subtle commotion at a table at the far end of the bar.

The other tipsy patrons weren't like to notice, but a woman in a booth was pushing a man away from her as he leaned sloppily in for a kiss. She was giggling at first, but when he continued advancing with undue strength, fear swept across her eyes. Jerking her arm out of his grasp and turning to escape, she stumbled backwards towards him when he grabbed hold of her roughly. Jerking them both to standing, he took hold of her shoulders roughly, making their unsteady gait look like a drunken couple stumbling home.

In an instant, Kalya melted around the corner into a side doorframe, watching intently as the two emerged from the tavern. She gulped hard as they passed her hiding spot in the dead-end alley. Kalya remained frozen in wait as the human manhandled his victim down to its shadow-darkened end. He kicked the woman's feet out to spread her legs and kept one tight hand around the woman's neck as the other hand began unbuckling his trousers.

The world around Kalya stopped, and there was no room for doubt as she snatched the blades from inside her boots, advancing silently on the couple. From a few feet away, she launched herself forward, aiming for the back of the man's leg and slamming her knife handle into the crook of his arm. Rather than crumpling to the ground as the soldier had, the man simply shifted his weight. Spinning around in shock, he landed his elbow square in Kalya's face, stunning her into dropping both knives as she slammed into the side wall. The captive woman gave a choking sound and a cough, causing her attacker to slam her head again against the hard stone.

Dazed on the ground, Kalya scrambled to regain her balance. Blood gushed from her nose, seeping through her swelling lips, as the bitter, metallic taste met her tongue. There was no time to feel around for her blades, but perhaps she could stun the man long enough to loosen his grip on the girl.

The assailant swung his one free arm wildly as she tried to duck out of its way, but he grabbed onto Kalya's hair and yanked her to her feet, fixing his strong hand around her neck, as well.

"Looks like it'll be two for the price of one," he sneered.

With his arms occupied, however, he couldn't block Kalya's harsh kick to the groin, and he doubled over in pain, dropping both of them. The woman ran off crying, but when Kalya went to juke around his other side, he caught her again and slammed her head back on the ground beside him, hands around her neck.

"Oh, you're gonna pay for that one, bitch!"

He mounted her and squeezed her limbs between his thighs too tightly for her to wriggle out of as her peripheral vision became hazy. She tried to inhale but his thumbs pressed tightly on the base of her neck, making it impossible. In her last seconds of consciousness, she saw his head fly back and a leather-bound hand slice a line across the man's neck, spurting more blood onto her face. His body collapsed on top of her, and the world went black.

:::

Bubbles of pain burst against Kalya's face in the blackness, matching the rhythmic precision of her heartbeats. She could sense a dim, flickering candlelight as consciousness slowly crept in, bringing with it more aching discoveries. A throbbing in the chest, a raw slash across her arm. Trying to move as little as possible, she willed her heavy eyelids to open, revealing a small wooden room surrounding her, candle by the bedside.

Other senses returned all at once. A clattering in the opposite corner startled her as a pungent odor filling the room hit her nose, sending her scrambling shakily to the top of the bed against the wall.

"Easy there, stranger." A man's deep voice rose in the darkness with a whisper of an Orlesian accent. Kalya's eyes adjusted enough to see a dim flame of a stove where the man stood, stirring the aromatic substance. He was facing away from her.

"What do you do?" he asked calmly.

"Excuse me?" Kalya's voice creaked, and her lips felt unnaturally thick. The voice sounded distantly familiar, but her clouded mind couldn't connect.

"You wake up in a dark room with a strange man whose back is turned. What do you do?"

Kalya searched the room. To her left was the small candle. To her right on another small table were her twin blades, glinting in moonlight spilling in through the window.

"I stab you in the fucking back," she said, heart suddenly racing like a trapped animal. She considered lunging for them, but had the distant impression this was a trap.

Without turning around, the man slapped a hand across his back with a dull, metallic thump.

"Leather with a layer of mail underneath. No good. Next?"

"I…what is this? If you're going to kill me, do it _before_ the lecture."

"I'm not going to kill you, but that rapist would have in an instant."

The man spun around slowly with a simmering pot in one hand, raising the other with his palm towards her, supposedly, she assumed, to show he meant no harm as he approached. He sat on the end of the bed and dipped a cloth into the steaming liquid.

"Well?" he asked again.

"I would…I'd try to blow out your knee and attack you on the ground."

Lifting the cloth out of the thick solvent, he squeezed it lightly in one hand and dipped his head in unspoken permission, leaning towards her to dab it on her cheeks. The salve felt hot and cold at once, and though her face tingled beneath its touch, she could feel some of the pain slowly wicking away.

"When you're weaker than your enemy – which is everyone to you, elf – that will only work on the rare chance the attacker is unbalanced or distracted. That man was neither. Kicking his legs and hitting his arm only made him choke his victim tighter."

"Well, what was I supposed to do? Let her get raped?"

He gently dabbed the salve higher, circling both her eyes. She sucked in through her teeth at the sharp sting, but the feeling was quickly replaced by soothing warmth.

"As an elf, you're also quicker than many, and more dexterous. A yank of the hair pulling the head back will stun just about any human, opening up their neck for your blade, or if you'd rather, distracting them long enough to make them more susceptible to leg or arm attacks."

"I'd _rather_ have stabbed him in the crotch," she muttered. Her companion chuckled softly.

After returning the cloth to the pot to re-saturate, he gently lifted her arm and ran the material over the gash.

"Did I miss anything?" he asked.

"Um, my mouth," she said. "Thanks, I can..." She trailed off, reaching out her able hand.

He handed the bowl over. She lifted the cloth to her face and then sheepishly tucked it underneath her shirt to smooth the rising bruise on her chest as the man averted his eyes.

When she was finished, Kalya returned the salve, and he placed it next to the candle on her bedside table. The light illuminated his rugged features and dark hair pulled into a half-ponytail. Her heart leapt when she made the connection.

"Wait, I _know_ you!"

"Do you, stranger?"

"You – You were there with Alistair. In Denerim. You're a Grey Warden!"

"That I am. Riordan. You're the elf from the Spotted Pig, are you not?"

A smile escaped through her throbbing lips, and she lightly shook his hand.

"Are the Grey Wardens in Highever?" she asked.

"Only me, I'm afraid." Kalya's shoulders dropped, and Riordan poorly hid a small, knowing smile.

"I'm actually headed back to Orlais in a half-year's time, but I was granted leave to spend some time at my childhood home." His voice trailed off, suspended in thought, as he stared at the ground ahead of him.

"And, um, the others?" she asked, hoping to sound nonchalant.

"Alistair and Duncan went south, while the rest of the group you met continued due west through the Bannorn."

"What, is there a Blight or something?"

Riordan's gaze remained on the floor. "We'll leave _that_ for your king to decide."

"Oh. I was…sort of kidding."

A few moments passed, and Kalya shifted uncomfortably on the hard bed.

"How's the pain?" Riordan asked.

"Better than before, I suppose. Thank you."

Riordan nodded towards the foul-smelling mixture. "Best to keep that near you for a while. You'll swell back up in a few hours, but you can apply whenever it starts to ache. Here."

He reached in the table's drawer and procured a smoothed silver disk, holding it up to her face. When she caught sight of herself, she jumped back in surprise.

"Maker! You could have said something!"

Riordan chuckled. "The potion can't do anything about the coloring, but I should think you _look_ worse than you feel."

"Yeah, thanks a lot," she scowled at her reflection. Two black eyes stared back at her, and the sides of her nose were outlined with angry dark bruises. Her lips were double their usual size. No wonder talking felt foreign.

"Well, I should… let you get some rest. I can mix something to help you sleep, if you like."

"No. I mean, no, thanks. I don't think I'll have a problem."

Riordan rose and crossed to the room's entrance, opening the creaky, wooden door.

"I'll be right in the next room. If you need anything, just give a shout. Breakfast will be at sunrise."

He bowed his head toward her and clicked the door shut behind him. Kalya inched back down the scratchy, hard bed and gingerly flipped on her side. The night's stars looked move vivid than she could remember them being, and she exhaled a deep breath she didn't notice she'd been holding. She could get used to being on this side of the windowpane.


	9. Shadow

Sleep came quickly but didn't stay for long. Throbbing pain woke Kalya up every few hours or so, and she sleepily dabbed the balm across her body to quiet it. The hard bed felt as if it were stuffed with hay, but she was grateful to be sleeping anywhere that didn't have a sack of grain in sight.

Sure enough, Riordan came in at first light, carrying a tray of eggs, slices of cheese, grilled ham, and a crust of bread. She sprung up to a sitting position so fast, she forgot about the dormant bruise on her chest, which quickly woke up as well. Wincing as he sat the tray on her lap, she recovered almost instantly when the meal's aroma hit her and ravenously dug into the hot meal with both hands.

"Going to need a second helping there, _Warden_?" Riordan asked, smiling.

"Huh?" she said, mashing the bread into her mouth, as crumbs flew everywhere.

"You act like you haven't eaten since the last Blight."

She shrugged and continued munching on a triangle of yellow cheese.

"I've got some errands to attend to. There's a clean shirt in the drawer to your right. No trousers, I'm afraid. But I won't be back inside for a while if you'd like to draw a bath. I'm warming some water right now. It should be ready soon."

Kalya's mouth nearly dropped open. She'd been bathing in streams for as long as she could remember. Traveling to the outskirts of Denerim was dangerous enough that elven outings were organized monthly between themselves so men and women could travel in groups for washing day. She'd never been in a real bath full of hot, clean water, although she'd emptied plenty.

Riordan cleared his throat, probably a bit uncomfortable with her gape.

"Yes, well, as I said, take all the time you need. I should be back at midday, and you can have some more to eat. Good day, my lady."

He bowed and took his leave. Kalya let out a deep breath and gazed out the window to the green farmland beyond. She'd nearly forgotten what it felt like to be full. She couldn't wait to feel clean.

:::

The crisp caress of fresh linens made Kalya feel like nobility.

She had spent most of the early morning in the bath, soaking away the last remaining aches that the potion hadn't eradicated. All that remained now were the unsightly bruises, but if Riordan didn't care, she didn't either.

When she emerged from the long hallway that held her guest room, Riordan's room, and the bathroom, she was surprised to find what she'd thought was a little wooden farmhouse was more of a spacious wooden mansion. The end of the hall opened up into a sprawling living space, humongous kitchen, and another hallway continued off in another direction.

Equally surprising a discovery was the unfortunate squalor of it all. Riordan – or his family, she supposed – had so many tiny mountains of belongings piled up, she couldn't see the floor underneath. She would have guessed the place had been ransacked if there hadn't been so much left behind.

She felt guilty gaping at the room, as if seeing the mess at all was some invasion of privacy. Movement outside caught her attention, and she scurried to a window, ducking beneath the frame to peek outside before catching herself and remembering she didn't need to melt into the shadows today.

Beyond some rows of long-neglected vegetables was a huge oval enclosure fencing in a few horses that galloped around inside the perimeter. She could see Riordan on the far end rolling huge bales of hay into a great wooden barn. The cart that had passed when she ducked out of sight on the road to Highever with the young elves now remained close to the house, half-full of some vegetables scavenged from the wild garden.

She chewed her lip in deliberation. There was probably enough time to _at least_ start.

:::

Riordan entered through the kitchen door with a heavy satchel in hand exactly when the sun was at its highest point in the sky and stopped dead in his tracks. The kitchen was positively gleaming in the noonday sun. Pots and pans scrubbed to perfection hung from hooks long neglected. Years of mildew had been scoured away, revealing a brilliant stone countertop underneath.

The food from breakfast had been reorganized back in the pantry according to light and moisture restrictions, and a plate of bread and various meats was already spread out for lunch.

Kalya cursed under her breath from the living room. She'd wanted the entire area to be cleaned when he returned, but she'd lost track of the time. The aimless mountains were now almost completely categorized into tinier mountains organized by book, clothing, possible heirloom, and possible trash when he had interrupted her surprise.

"Maker's breath," he said. "I half expected you to be back in bed."

Kalya chuckled. "Have a little respect for your potion. Um, ser."

Riordan was speechless, peering into organized nooks and crannies in the kitchen he'd probably never known existed. When his wonder had its fill, he spun around, taking in the new living room for the first time. He shook his head in disbelief, and Kalya scrambled uncomfortably to fill the silence.

"Heh, you know what they say. You can take the elf out of servitude…"

"I hope you didn't feel you owed me this, child. That potion and your accommodations were freely given."

"Sure, for the one night…"

Riordan cocked his head ever so slightly to the side.

"Ser, if I might be so bold – you said you were to stay in Highever for six months. Is that right?"

He nodded.

"And you're a skilled Grey Warden. A rogue if I'm not mistaken."

His eyes narrowed, and Kalya couldn't get a read on if she should go for broke or lie and say she cleaned out of the kindness of her heart, then duck away into the night. She imagined he must be magnificent at poker.

"I was just thinking… if you needed some help around the house, which, uh, it looks like you do, sorry, I could stay here. And help."

"For room and board," he said rather than asked. His blank gaze made her gulp hard.

"And, er, training. Maybe."

"Training."

"Surely you need a sparring partner to keep your skills sharp."

Riordan shifted his weight, glaring slightly, and she yearned for the happy times when his face had remained blank.

"Well, not _you_, I'm sure. I mean, it's probably good discipline for _anyone_."

Seconds crawled by. She wondered distantly if she could still drown herself in the tub.

"Okay, _me_. I want you to train me. What you said last night sounded like really good advice, but there's so much more I don't even know. I've never been trained, and I'm weaker than all the bandits and thieves of Ferelden, and it pisses me off."

"Was that so hard?" he asked, throwing her the satchel he'd been carrying.

She caught it midair and sunk a bit under its surprising weight. Inside were folded scraps of leather armor – much too small for a human. Kalya shot Riordan a suspicious glance.

"We start in the early evening, when the day begins to cool off."

Riordan picked up the platter and carried it to the freshly unearthed table and newly usable seats. He motioned for her to join him, nibbling a piece of meat.

"Thank you, ser. Truly. You won't regret this. I promise."

"Oh, but _you_ might, child." He gestured to the other hallway she had yet to visit. "You haven't seen my parents' room yet."

:::

The barn reached further back than it appeared, its wooden walls lined with shields and weapons, various weights of armor. Horses pranced around proudly in the enclosure surrounding them as Riordan took Kalya through a few of the ways she could have disarmed the criminal without hurting his victim or herself.

The next day, after Kalya helped Riordan in the garden for most of the morning, it was more of the same: disarming techniques from behind, over and over until she finally thought she had mastered it. When Riordan was convinced, he switched it up on her, catching an arm where he knew it would be and seeing if she could work her way out of his grasp with the new variable. She couldn't.

Days passed, and they worked on other techniques in the afternoon. Grabs, arm locks, grappling. He taught her how to use an opponent's strength against him and capitalize on her speed and dexterity to win over raw power. Kalya could sense Riordan's hesitance to put real strength behind his attacks, and when she realized what he was doing, she socked him in the solar plexus so hard, he had to hunch over and grab his kneecaps for a few minutes.

From then on, their tenacity was a bit more evenly balanced, but she knew she would never be a true match for Warden strength. Still, she could feel her power and reflexes improving as the weeks passed.

When it was time for weapons training, Riordan was thrilled to discover her innate skill with dual-wielding. Minutes into their lesson, he tossed her much heavier blades to train with, so when it came time to use the real thing, the strength behind her slashes would be like cutting through air.

The only recalcitrance came when Riordan pleaded with Kalya to practice the bow and arrow, assuring her the weapon was perfectly suited for her build and body type. Kalya replied either by glaring at him until he backed away, silently continuing her knife forms without looking at him, or insisting angrily this was proof that every human was inherently racist towards elves. Riordan didn't like those days very much and often ended up inside, taking his heated emotions out on that evening's dinner.

Some days of training were better than others. When Riordan finally stopped pulling his punches, Kalya found herself more often than not tumbling to the ground from an unblocked haymaker or being thwapped hard across her midsection, which would have meant death from a real sword.

Riordan never apologized, for which she was masochistically thankful. Each blossom of pain was a reminder to better parry with her weapons or keep her guard up. Thankful as she was, however, more than one occasion ended with her foregoing supper to sulk in her room.

The worst days were those where she fought back tears _during_ training, not due to any pain or embarrassment, but bitter anger at herself. For not being stronger, faster; for telegraphing her moves for Riordan to anticipate and for being unable to read his; for not seeming to be getting any better despite the passing months.

If Riordan noticed the mist gathering in her eyes on such occasions, he blessedly didn't mention it. But at the next day's meal or during chores, he would make a point to compliment a move she'd recently perfected or conveniently mention a strategy that might have prevented the previous day's failings. For these and countless other kindnesses, she knew she would never be able to thank him enough.

:::

Nights were a particularly difficult time. The first time it happened, Kalya sprung from her bed, knives grasped in her hands before she even realized what had woken her up. Ungodly screaming from the room next door sapped the remainder of sleep from her foggy mind, and she burst through Riordan's bedroom door fully expecting to see something horrible happening to him at the hands of a bandit.

He was still in bed, alone, sheets kicked across the room and back arched at an unnatural angle as he writhed in pain. Rushing to his side, Kalya noticed his eyes were still closed as screaming gurgles erupted from his mouth. She slid the knives under the bed and grasped his shoulders gently, pinning him to the mattress.

"Shh shh shh, you're okay. Riordan? You're with me in Highever. Everything's okay."

His eyes sprang open, and he glanced wildly around the room. In an instant, he was out of bed, pinning Kalya against the wall the rooms shared, knife brandished out of nowhere pressing against her throat. Riordan's shoulders rose and dropped rapidly as he continued searching the shadows around him. Kalya was too afraid to move or speak. Finally, Riordan stumbled backwards a few steps and took his head in his hand, rubbing his eyes.

"I…I'm sorry," he said.

"No, no." Kalya rubbed her neck where he had been holding her. "Though if you ever meet my father, you can tell him I've been dethroned as grumpiest upon awakening."

Riordan searched her face. He looked so sad, she regretted making the stupid joke.

"Is there anything I can…" She trailed off.

He sat down hard on the bed behind him. Kalya could see both blades still on the floor, in addition to the one still in his hand. She reached down sheepishly to retrieve her weapons. After a moment, he slid his back under his pillow and looked at her.

"Sleep with yours too, do you? Smart." He said finally.

"Yeah. Uh, _next_ to the bed. I sleep with my hands shoved under the pillow, so that would get…messy."

The silence hung in the air. She couldn't remember ever feeling this uncomfortable around Riordan. Not afraid of him, but… ashamed. Like she had walked in on something private she wasn't meant to see.

"I should get –"

"It's the Taint," Riordan interrupted.

"Excuse me?"

"Comes with the Grey Warden territory, I'm afraid. You think you get used to the nightmares, but I guess we never shake that off."

Kalya looked eagerly toward the door, biting her lip.

"Do you want me to…?"

"Yes, child, you should go back to sleep. I've got something here to calm the nerves. It shouldn't happen again tonight."

Kalya nodded and headed for the door. She felt like she should say something, stay with him, perhaps, but he seemed embarrassed to have disturbed her, and she was more than eager to remove herself from the situation.

Although his words had been true and it didn't happen again that night, it did happen again a few weeks later. Then a few days after that. And then it was becoming something that happened every night. Once, she asked him if it was ever going to let up, since it hadn't happened as often back when they first met, and he just shook his head solemnly. She dropped it after that.

From then on, the lightest whimper roused her from her sleep, and she dutifully joined her companion's side, now knowing better than to grab him. She would sit cautiously on the edge of the bed and rub his arm until he sat stock straight up in bed, gasping for breath. He never lost the initial sheepish expression when he realized it had been a nightmare, but he was quicker to lay back down as the frequency increased, and Kalya would run a knowing hand through his hair until he fell back asleep.


	10. Last of Your Line

Riordan had put off entering his parents' bedroom since before Kalya had lived with him. She was permitted to clean the other guest rooms in the wing, and when they had a big enough pile of unneeded trinkets from all the rooms, Riordan was able to sell them in the Highever Market with that day's garden yield for a fair amount of coin.

When the nightmares began, however, it seemed he had nothing left to hide from Kalya, or from in general, and they ventured in together, solemnly sorting out items that had once been clearly beloved. Kalya had a hunch where the reluctance must have originated, and he confirmed it one afternoon as they went through a pile of correspondence letters.

He told her how his parents had suddenly fallen ill while he was in Orlais and how he had returned to Ferelden to care for them, only the journey east through the Waking Sea had been fraught with pirate attacks. Although he traveled with Orlesian Chevaliers, who quickly took care of the pirate situation by his side, the setbacks proved too time-consuming to make it home on time. They had passed within days of his landing at Highever's port.

Upon hearing the news, Riordan's friend Duncan had contacted him seeking to distract him with Ferelden Grey Warden business, which was what had led him to attend Alistair's Joining in Denerim months earlier. Kalya listened with somber attentiveness, but she doubted her straightening up at the mention of Alistair's name went unnoticed.

Divulging the story to Kalya seemed to lift a weight off of Riordan's shoulders, but it also served as a grim reminder to her, as they sold off his family's belongings piece by piece, that there was truly nothing left in Highever for him, and he would soon be leaving Ferelden behind forever.

:::

Kalya supposed she shouldn't have been surprised when Riordan recommended she try out her newfound skills on the nighttime streets of Highever. She had always fancied Grey Wardens as a noble order above knights and therefore duty-bound not to mettle in the affairs of drunks in barfights and lone rapists in dark alleys.

Riordan assured her that while they officially held no political ties, Wardens were encouraged to exact justice when wrongdoings were occurring right in front of them, and he offered to help her while she practiced her skills to do just that throughout town. That is, as long as the ruling Cousland family's castle guards were never around when she did it.

One night over dwarven ale in the tavern where they'd met, Kalya finally admitted to Riordan in hushed voices her role in the murder of a Highever guard. Riordan chuckled softly, took a long drag of ale, and told her it was a good thing the honor guards hadn't caught up with her just yet.

"Are you kidding me?" she said, ale infusing her with even more cockiness than normal. "It was practically in the middle of the mountains. I'm not even sure that's Highever territory."

"He's still a knight of Highever. The teyrn would have its murderer hanged."

"_He_ was the murderer! He killed an unarmed woman! An elf half his size!"

"I'm on your side, child," said Riordan, lowering his voice and leaning in to her, "but the Couslands have a very black-and-white view of the law. The soldier was following orders and would have been hanged himself if he had let their property go."

"Their _property_?!" She slammed a fist on the table. The barkeep eyed them, and Riordan genially waved him away. "_I'm_ sorry, are we in _Tevinter_?! Have you been holding out teaching me to shoot lighting bolts all this time?!"

"A poor choice of words, Kalya, but the price of death is the same for elves in the castle or human soldiers defecting from their post. Imagine the knowledge they would be privy to that they could sell to enemies of the Couslands, of which there are many."

"Yeah, well, they just got another one."

Riordan tried grinning at his angry apprentice, but she refused to meet his gaze, and the two drank in silence for the better part of the evening. They had intended to spend the evening working on Kalya's pickpocketing, but every time a tipsy mark who didn't look like he'd miss a coin or two stumbled past, Kalya stuck out a lip and pretended not to notice Riordan's urging.

When a bar fight broke out in the early morning hours and the larger of the assailants gruffly grabbed a woman and headed out the door, Riordan finally locked eyes with Kalya and offered a nod and a bemused smile, looking like he did not envy the recipient of her pent-up anger.

:::

The days were growing shorter, and Kalya couldn't ignore the small stacks of belongings that began accumulating slowly in the living room. Riordan was packing to return to Orlais. He had sold off all the trinkets and heirlooms he couldn't take with him on his return travel north.

Neither of them mentioned the impending day she would be dismissed, and it would hurt her pride too much to ask him if she could continue living in the great big house that would surely bring in quite a bit of coin when he sold it, so she never did.

With the melancholy countdown hanging in the air, it was all the more curious when Riordan bounded in the door one afternoon after spending time in the market. Kalya looked up from the dishes, eyebrow raised, wondering distantly if he'd been day drinking.

"Duncan's coming here!" Riordan said, his tired eyes alight with excitement. "He will be in Highever within the next few days, and he's recruiting."

Kalya nearly dropped the plate she was drying. "Alistair's coming here?"

Riordan's smile softened. "No, child, but Duncan is recruiting for the Grey Wardens."

"I…I don't understand."

"A knight called Ser Gilmore has been making a name for himself in the Cousland royal guard. He's a spectacular candidate for the Grey Wardens, though I wouldn't be surprised if he tried to recruit the teyrn's daughter Elissa while he's here."

"How lovely. Do you suppose the Cousland girl will only murder darkspawn that help serving elves escape, or will she send them off to trial, since Couslands adhere so strictly to the law?"

"You're not hearing me. Grey Wardens need all the help they can get. Ser Gilmore and Elissa are both skilled warriors, but… you're a rogue, personally trained by the most skilled Senior Warden in Thedas."

Kalya's jaw slackened. "You'd… ask Duncan to recruit me?"

Riordan paused a moment, averting his eyes, then handed her a sealed parchment. "I've written a letter of recommendation. I'm afraid I won't get to advocate for you in person, but I'm assured he will hear me out."

"You're leaving?!" she choked. "I - I _knew_ you were moving, but… I don't understand."

"Troops from Amaranthine were to arrive the same day as Duncan, but poor weather has blocked their advancement for at least a week, and it's said to be heading this way. Arl Howe arrived just last night with word, and travelers are being urged to make their sea travel before the storm comes through. That includes me, I'm afraid."

"So that's it? You're just leaving."

Riordan nodded. "Tonight."

Kalya ripped off her apron and stormed towards her room.

"Child, you knew this day was coming," he called after her.

She slid her twin blades into her boots and shoved the letter to Duncan in her satchel of leather armor. Turning gruffly on her heel, she bumped into Riordan unapologetically when he tried to block her doorway.

He caught her arm as she tried to continue down the hallway.

"I've made a deal with the new owner to let you stay here for a few more days. You don't have to do this."

"Do what? I'm just giving you the same few minutes of notice before _I_ leave forever."

"Kalya." Riordan dropped his grip on her arm. "I want you to be a Grey Warden. It's what I envisioned for you from the moment I saw you attack that man in the alley. You have a good sense about you. I couldn't be more proud of how far you've come."

Kalya cursed under her breath as she turned her head away, blinking back tears.

"Tell me you'll go to the gates of Castle Cousland in two days time. The guards won't let you pass, but Duncan is sure to be done with his business around dusk. You can give him the letter after he's recruited Ser Gilmore and whoever else. You could be a Warden before the week is out."

She nodded.

"Is that a promise? You'll meet with Duncan?"

Kalya whipped her head around to glare at him, but Riordan's expression was so raw and hopeful, it caused her chest to tighten. She ran across the room and slapped her arms around his waist, hugging him close. He pressed her head against his chest, and they waited, neither wanting to be the first to break away.

:::

Salty wind from the Waking Sea whipped through Kalya's hair. She sat high atop a building with a great arching shingled roof that would allow her to flatten into hiding if any guards had the sense to be looking for her. Across the way was the Chantry, and below her were Castle Cousland's front gates, manned by two sturdy but largely inept guards.

It was early still. Unwilling to wait until dusk as she was told, she had watched Duncan arrive in the late afternoon, alone on his horse. She chided herself for the stupidity of expecting some grand procession of Grey Wardens as she watched him dismount the horse before the overzealous guards clearly excited to flex their positions of power.

Duncan bowed solemnly and extended a hand with his traveling papers, which the guard took with much relish.

She could just make out snippets of their conversation when the wind snaked through the gates and flowed up to her perch.

"So you've come from Denerim," the guard said, haughtily.

"I've come from Lothering," said Duncan.

The guard scanned the page. "Ah, yes. You're _headed_ to Denerim. And then…the Brecilian Forest?"

"These are mutable intentions. Should I find what I need here, my destination may change. Ser." Kalya rolled her eyes, wondering, as she often did, how people found the restraint to keep from punching everyone in sight.

"Very good, and your estimated departure time?"

"Ser, with all respect, Teyrn Bryce is expecting me within the week. Shall I tell him I was held up at the gates for questioning?"

The guard's jaw dropped. "Um, no, ser. Everything looks to be in order. Ser Stefan, open the gates!"

Every inch of her body itched to drop from her perch and present the letter to Duncan, to get the formalities out of the way and start a new chapter of her life as a Grey Warden, fighting alongside the Warden Commander and, okay, yes, Alistair. He'd laugh with his crooked smile when he saw how much she'd learned, how much stronger she'd become, and he would comment that he'd known from the moment she caught that fallen glass that she was worthy of joining the order.

But she heeded Riordan's advice, begrudgingly, to wait for Duncan's exit, with Ser Gilmore and whoever else in tow. It wasn't too difficult a conclusion to accept, either, since she didn't fancy being surrounded on all sides by dirty Couslands.

Hours later, the gates rose again, but rather than Duncan emerging on his lone horse, rows and rows of Highever soldiers on their own brilliant-white steeds marched through the castle's opening. _They_ looked like they knew what they were doing. She sunk into the dip between the eaves so they wouldn't notice her.

After the sun set, Kalya was getting positively antsy. Fidgeting in her uncomfortable crouch, something faint caught Kalya's ear. It was so quiet, she thought she'd imagined it at first, but when the ocean breeze died down for a moment, she heard it again, coming from far away. She scrambled up to the building's highest point, now veiled in darkness.

To the west, past the farmlands and emerging from the thick forests between Highever and Amaranthine, she saw them. At first, she assumed they were Cousland troops returning from whence they had gone, but something seemed… off. They carried no torches, and she could see enough of their movement in the darkening dusk that their horsed ranks didn't fall into disciplined steps as the ones who had just left.

She glanced down at the soldiers manning the gates. They were talking amongst themselves, in good spirits if not bored. Through the crisscrossed bars, she could see a fraction of the company of soldiers that had been there in late morning.

When she glanced back at the approaching troops, her stomach dropped like a stone. They were gaining ground _fast._ They could be at the gates within minutes.

Kalya felt equal parts terrified and foolish. They could just be Arl Howe's troops, having made it through the weather ahead of schedule. They could be anyone's troops advancing for any reason. Maybe they brought urgent news or hoped to catch up with the Cousland cavalcade headed in the other direction and would bypass Highever completely. Perhaps Duncan was awaiting their arrival before he set off. Her gut disagreed with these safer scenarios, but what choice of action did she have? Even though she didn't need to, hidden high in the shadows, she inched her way back into hiding, as the rumbling of hooves grew ever closer.

The flaming arrows hit the Chantry first. An instant later, arrows alighted the eaves of the building where she was hiding, meters away from her on each side.


	11. Pride Before The Fall

Grappling hooks sailed into the sky as Kalya sat frozen in fear. They latched onto the top of the gates protecting Castle Cousland, and within minutes, raiders were at her eye level, ascending. Praying to the Maker that they wouldn't turn around, she could feel beads of sweat rolling down her face as she flattened behind the flames.

A burst of orange erupted from below as the fire spread from the building to the ground, blocking any hope of exit. Over the crackling flames, she could hear the slow clinking of heavy chains raising the castle's gate to allow the raiders entry.

_Duncan is still inside_, she thought distantly. A part of her knew he could hold his own in battle, but the real reason she didn't make a move to skirt along the castle's balustrades and drop inside to seek him out was already gurgling in her stomach. Is it still cowardice if you judiciously avoid something that completely assures your death? _Yes, it definitely is._

Lapping heat began to sear the edges of her leather armor. Kalya took a chance to raise her head and saw a mass of soldiers storming the courtyard, the bodies of slain Cousland knights breaking up the horde every few steps. Looking back past the Chantry, however, she could see the ranks were thinning. If she could wait it out a little longer…

The patch of flames on the roof to her left suddenly caved in, and a plume of fire reached into the sky. The blaze within threatened to eat its way through the entire roof. She had to make a move.

She slid to the bottom of the roof's slanted eaves and flipped around, dangling by her fingertips. Flames licked the bottoms of her boots from the ground 9 meters beneath her, but the route was still preferable to escape through the collapsing death house. Kalya swung underneath the rafter, feeling for a foothold on the building behind her. When she found purchase, she pushed off the overhang, flipping back around to climb down the wall.

The stone was slick with heat, and as she descended, it was becoming increasingly difficult to keep a sturdy grasp. In fearful haste, she grabbed a hold without testing its temperature and lost her balance. Time seemed to slow as she squirmed to right herself in midair like a cat. At the moment before impact, she tucked in her chin, as Riordan had taught her when taking a fall in a fight, and she flattened her back to take the full impact of the fall.

However worse it would have been if she _hadn't_ done that, she couldn't imagine. Pain streaked like lightning up her spine from her tailbone.

The flames that had spread out in the surge of her fall instantly wrapped back around her, and Kalya instinctively rolled forward, gnashing her teeth unconsciously against her mounting injuries. Smoke and heat stung her eyes as she sputtered out onto the cobbled road adjacent to Castle Cousland's gaping entrance. Excruciating pain radiated outwards from her coccyx as she stood, but she noted its slight retreat if she could remain hunched over. Trying to blink away blindness, a shape advanced on her, and without thinking, she shot her leg upwards, landing a lucky strike into an unlucky raider's crotch. Thank the Maker for leather armor. As he bent over, she dropped an elbow hard to his spinal cord and he fell to the ground, writhing in pain.

Another raider was upon her. In an instant, her blades were in hand, parrying every attack. Without full visibility, she hesitated lunging in for the kill, but she could sense a weakness behind his strikes. Perhaps they'd been riding for days. When a swift block twisted the man off balance, she sunk her blade in between the floating ribs on the man's side, and he too dropped to the hard stone. As the remaining raiders passed through the gate without distraction, Kalya bent to wrench her weapon from her attacker's body as his life wicked away.

Racing westward towards Riordan's farm, Kalya didn't slow to turn and see if she was being followed. Best to just assume. She hopped the fence encircling the barn. The horses Riordan had left behind for the house's new owners had luckily not been spooked by the thundering cavalcade.

One possession of hers still remained inside the house – the leather armor purchased with Alistair's coin before her trip to Highever. As she threw a saddle on the horse, she surveyed the land surrounding the barn. No one advanced; out in the open, anyway. There was probably time enough to retrieve it. Her current armor curled at its now-singed edges, but it had been a gift from Riordan. She'd make it up to Alistair…

Pulling the saddle strap tight, she mounted the horse and galloped full tilt toward the fence. The beast hopped it, and they continued into the night towards the only destination she assumed Duncan would be heading to next. The place she thought she'd only return to if her mission from Alistair had been a failure. She supposed it was. Denerim.

:::

Back in Denerim, the days seemed to meld together. Kalya's guilt shifted into malaise and back again. The trek from Highever to Denerim had taken only 5 days on horseback, including an afternoon spent gathering herbs for Riordan's salve to ease her aching tailbone. Even with pain as a distraction, the entire ride was fraught with shame.

Kalya relived that night more frequently than she slept. She could have climbed to the highest point in the Highever Alienage, where the raiders wouldn't have bothered glancing, and waited for Duncan's assured exit. Void take her, she could have done _something_ – warned the guards when she first saw the raiders, scaled the wall herself before they arrived, _tried_ to fight her way through the horde.

Dying while to saving the Warden Commander seemed infinitely nobler than living with the guilt of running away like a cowardly child.

She sheepishly accepted her old room in her father's house. Embarrassed by accepting the tedium of daily life when heroes were fighting for the king and being slain, she stayed indoors most days and nights, not deigning to return to her old employer and daring anyone to question her. Her father didn't pry. Cyrion was grateful to have his daughter back in his care and regarded her with quiet concern, as one might treat someone in mourning.

Her cousins Shianni and Soris were overjoyed upon her return, but Kalya's sour moods drove them away. Visits became less and less frequent. Soris' behavior didn't surprise her. Cautious and timid ever since they'd been children, he was probably worried what dangerous impulses she'd picked up in her time away. If he only knew.

But Shianni had the spark of adventure in her. If Kalya had _wanted_ to talk to anyone, she was sure Shianni would have understood her feelings of loss and regret. Still, she remained silent, resigned to relive that awful night in sullen solitude.

When Kalya did leave the house, she poked around the city listlessly, hoping to hear news of anything from Highever or beyond, passing the time by picking the pocket of the occasional traveler or dopey noble. Upon hearing nothing, she'd return with the day's take to present to her father as a sort of rent payment. Or perhaps as an unspoken apology for being so sour. She hadn't decided.

After half a month with no appearance of Duncan, Kalya found herself wandering into the Chantry, eyes glazed over, emotionally spent. She had never been very religious, at least compared to the other city elves. By Dalish standards, she was a downright heathen.

_Am I supposed to close my eyes when I pray?_ she wondered as she approached the Chantry courtyard. _The Sisters always have those candles. Are they part of the whole deal-with-the-Maker thing, or just décor?_

The great doors creaked as they opened, and she slipped inside, suddenly ashamed at creating a disturbance in such a populated venue. Pew after pew was filled with humans and elves alike, mostly women and children, and the occasional young man. Instinctively, she hugged the wall as she entered, tiptoeing forward.

A Sister in Chantry robes passed, lighting one of their lucky candles with the one in her hand. Kalya dipped her head in reverence as the woman smiled and ducked into a shallow alcove.

"Um, Sister?" Kalya asked. "Am I interrupting a service?"

"No, child, it's been like this the last three days." Lowering her voice, she added, "Families of Grey Wardens."

"Has something happened?"

The Sister shrugged. "Apparently they're to march on Ostagar within the week. Some say darkspawn have made it to the surface, but others think it's just an exercise. No one's sure what to believe."

"Then Duncan's alive!" A woman in a dark shawl turned to scowl at them. Kalya grinned at her. "The Warden Commander!"

"I…suppose he'd have to be."

"Do you want me to light that?" Kalya asked, nodding enthusiastically at the Sister's candle. She could have hugged the woman.

"No, I've… I've got it covered. Thank you."

Kalya skipped to the nearest pew with a sliver of room, knelt for half a minute, and thanked the Maker profusely. She prayed with all her might for the Wardens' continued safety in the upcoming maybe-battle, then rose to burst out the door, flooded with relief.

If Duncan could survive the attack on Highever as a lone Grey Warden, the whole of Ferelden's Wardens could withstand anything. Alistair was less than two weeks' travel away, and surely the Wardens would be heading northeast towards Denerim on their recruitment path, rather than west into the Hinterlands.

She could be back in Alistair's arms before the month's end. The thought left a tickle in the base of her stomach. Kalya blushed in the warm Denerim sun.

:::

Alistair took the bridge of his nose in his hand and rubbed his eyes impatiently. He was getting nowhere. When Duncan had swooped in to save him from a lifetime of boring Templar politics, he had hoped he'd seen the end of veiled threats and futile pissing contests with mages. But the Revered Mother asked him to send a message, and he was going to pass it along if he had to Holy Smite the mage to do it. Would the look on the mage's face be worth the assured lecture from Duncan? Absolutely.

He became distantly aware of someone approaching, but he was determined to get the mage out of camp quickly. When the Revered Mother called for an audience with a mage personally, it was almost never good news, and his headstrong resistance made Alistair antsy. He looked innocent enough, but they always did.

Alistair allowed himself a glance to his left to the figure waiting somewhat impatiently for his attention. His jaw dropped a bit, the unexpected sight completely blocking out whatever the mage was rambling on about.

A new Warden recruit was said to meet him later today, but this… was unexpected. His eyes traveled over her chestnut hair, wrapped in a long, tight braid and resting against her breastplate.

_Huh, they _do _make breastplates for women. Have I really only seen Female Wardens who were rogues and mages? Leather is pretty durable, so no need to shape around…things. I wonder if the metal is custom-made or if it's a one-size-fits-all sort of deal, because not _all_ women—oh, Maker, I am _still_ staring at her breastplate, aren't I? _

Alistair looked up to meet her dark eyes. He gulped hard.


End file.
